


Shattered

by gmariam



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Flat Holm, Post-Episode: s01e04 Cyberwoman, Post-Episode: s02e11 Adrift, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-14 02:04:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9152710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gmariam/pseuds/gmariam
Summary: After Gwen learns about Flat Holm, Ianto shares his own experience on the island.





	1. Chapter 1

_Set post-_ Adrift _and post-_ Cyberwoman _, with warnings for suicidal themes._

One

Ianto watched Gwen carefully take down every picture she'd collected, photographs of loved ones gone missing who would never return to their families. Her hands were steady, but Ianto saw the sadness in her eyes and knew she was suffering. It was, in part, her own fault for pushing so hard, for failing to trust that Jack always held their best interests at heart and didn't want to hurt them. And yet it was also no fault of her own that she felt things so strongly, and Ianto knew Gwen must be feeling grief, anger, and failure.

Jack was brooding on a rooftop, no doubt working through his anger with both Ianto and the Rift, and Ianto knew it was best to leave him there for the short term, until Jack was either calm enough for a confrontation that didn't involve coming to blows, or so consumed by guilt and grief that he sought out support. In the meantime, Gwen was staring at one last face on the board, her eyes filling up with tears as she took down Jonah Bevan's picture.

Ianto had number of issues with Gwen, from her insubordination to her lack of faith in Jack as a leader in spite of her clear interest in him as a man, but this—this woman before him, silent tears running down her face—was, in part, his fault. He had taken it upon himself to clue her into the existence of Flat Holm, knowing that Jack never would, but that Gwen would never stop pushing. He had opened the door for her, allowing her to see one of the darker sides of what they did, or tried to do, knowing full well the heartbreak it would cause for them all. Yet her innocence was something that too often endangered the team; it lent her a naiveté that, combined with her stubbornness, led to the constant doubt and questioning she'd been exhibiting for months, right down to refusing to follow orders in the field.

While he'd done it to save Jack the pain of being responsible for destroying Gwen's faith in the universe, he'd also done it to develop her faith in Jack and what he tried to do every day for the people of Cardiff. And if it broke some of the ingrained beliefs and alarming habits that endangered the team, so much the better. He'd expected tears and heartache, even fury and rage, but seeing her now, he felt nothing but tired and guilty. He'd played a part in this, and the least he could do now was help her pick up the pieces.

He came up behind her, gently taking the last photograph from her hand and setting it with the others. She froze before turning toward him. With a nod, he opened his arms and let her fall into them as she sobbed onto his shoulder. Rubbing circles on her back, he stood strong and let her cry, laying his chin on her head as he murmured, "I'm sorry," and willed his own tears not to fall.

With a loud sniff, she stepped back, wiping at her eyes. "What?" she asked. "What for?"

He smiled sadly and motioned toward the sofa, leading her toward the battered cushions and settling down next to her. She rested her head on his shoulder, and he put his arm around her once more.

"I'm sorry you had to find out this way," he said quietly. "I'm sorry that it's so hard for you. I knew it would be, but…" He trailed off, unable to continue.

"But what?" she asked, not looking at him.

He sighed. "But I knew you wouldn't give up, and I knew Jack wouldn't give in. It would tear you both apart, and possibly the rest of the team."

"So you left me the GPS."

"So I left you the GPS."

They sat silently for a while, though it was a comfortable silence. Ianto imagined any number of things she might do or say next and dreaded them all.

"Is Jack upset?" she finally asked, exactly as he had expected. He nodded.

"He's probably on his favorite rooftop right now," he replied. "Flat Holm always upsets him."

"Is he angry with you?" she pressed, turning to look at him. "Because when I met him at the island, it was obvious he didn't tell you to give me the GPS."

"No, he didn't," Ianto replied. "That was my own decision." He took his arm back and folded his hands in his lap, staring down at them as he thought about what he'd done. Jack had every right to be mad, and from their brief interactions since the shit had hit the proverbial fan, Jack was definitely angry. Ianto hoped it was something they could work through, but knew there was a very real possibility that Jack would see Ianto's actions as one betrayal too many. He tried not to think about what would happen if that were the case; he wasn't sure how he felt about quite possibly sacrificing his sort-of relationship with Jack for Gwen and the team.

"Is he upset?" she asked again. "Because I'd hate for him to blame you, when you only did it because I'm such a stubborn arse. I'll talk to him, tell him why—"

Ianto laughed in spite of himself. "I appreciate the offer, but I think we need to deal with it ourselves. You know, sit down and talk about it calmly over a pint like civilized men." He waited for her response, hoping a little levity would help lighten the conversation.

"Really?" she asked, sounding surprised. Ianto shook his head.

"Of course not. I think he's more likely to slug me or fire me."

That earned a shocked gasp that had her sitting up straight. "Ianto, no! He can't do that! It's more my fault, and his, than yours! He wouldn't actually—"

Ianto laid a hand on her arm to calm her. "No, of course not. I was only joking. We'd both have to be furious to come to blows over something. This isn't it. Besides, I think he needs to make his peace with this before you start telling him off again."

"What do you mean?" she asked. "Make his peace?"

"Gwen, you do understand why he didn't want to tell you, don't you?" Ianto asked, trying to hide his exasperation. She sighed and leaned back.

"I know he likes to keep secrets," she replied, and raised a hand when Ianto started to protest. "But yes, I understand why he kept this one from me, and from the others. It's terrifying to think that the Rift can take anyone, anytime, and it's even worse knowing there's nothing we can do to stop it, and so little we can do to help the poor people who come back."

"He didn't want to break you," Ianto said, staring across the Hub as he thought about Flat Holm. "Or the others. Although Owen is probably pragmatic enough to accept there's no cure for someone like Jonah, that doesn't mean it won't hurt him to see it and be unable to do anything. And Tosh may also accept it, but she'll work tirelessly to try and predict the negative spikes now. She's already thinking about it, I could see it in her eyes." He smiled, thinking of Tosh's determination. If anyone could do anything, it was her, and even if she only predicted one negative spike, at least it was one person saved.

"Ianto?" Gwen asked, sounding uncertain. "If Jack didn't want us to know about Flat Holm…how did you know about it?"

And there was the one question he'd been waiting for and dreading most. Neither Tosh nor Owen had asked, but then they had stronger filters than Gwen, respecting things like privacy no matter how curious they were. Gwen, on the other hand, sometimes didn't think how her actions might affect others. If she had a question, she asked it, if she had an opinion, she stated it, and if she thought something was the right thing to do, she did it without thought for the consequences.

And then she surprised him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. She sat up and offered him a rueful smile. "There's me sticking my nose in where it doesn't belong again. You're the general administrator here, you know everything, so of course Jack told you. Only…"

"Hm?" he asked, knowing she'd never stop wondering and might end up badgering Jack again if she didn't ask Ianto himself. That would likely send Jack into another tailspin of crippling self-doubt and guilt.

"Only why was it all right to share something so…so horrible with you, when he didn't want to upset the rest of us? That hardly seems fair!"

He almost loved her for that, but instead of pressing a kiss to her temple, he shrugged. "He didn't exactly share the secret with me," he said quietly.

"You figured it out on your own?" she asked with a small smile. He shook his head.

"He took me there. As a patient."

* * *

Jack watched Ianto Jones move stiffly around the Hub, cleaning up their shit, as he'd so eloquently stated it the previous night when Jack had held a gun to his head. Jack had confined the Welshman to the cells while he and Owen cleaned up the horrors in the basement, working late into the night. He had sent Gwen and Tosh home, sparing them the worst of it, and had finally sent Owen home as well before he'd finished putting to rights the rest of the damage done to the Hub and settled down at his desk to check on Ianto through the CCTV. He'd collapsed in a corner, huddled into a shivering ball as he slept fitfully. Jack had taken down blankets and a pillow, and because his instincts told him he should be concerned about Ianto's mental state more than anything else, he had confiscated both the Welshman's belt and tie as a precaution.

It wasn't long after that Ianto had woken screaming; obviously a nightmare, and Jack shuddered to think about what form Ianto's nightmares must take. There was little doubt in Jack's mind that whatever had happened to Ianto at Canary Wharf had been pushed aside as he'd been forced to deal with his girlfriend. Which meant that with Lisa Hallett now dead, Ianto was most likely looking at a severe case of post-traumatic stress. Watching Ianto pace restlessly after flailing awake, Jack had decided it was time to deal with him, instinctively knowing from experience that the man would not go back to sleep. He had silently taken Ianto to the showers, allowing him privacy to wash and dress before leading him back upstairs, where he stoically began cleaning up anything Jack had missed the night before. Jack had hoped to avoid any confrontations with the team, yet they'd all come in early, clearly upset about the situation, though each in different ways.

Owen was struggling the most, it seemed, deep anger warring with empathy. The doctor had lost his fiancé to an alien who had taken over her mind as well, and he had done everything he could to save her. Was it so impossible for him to imagine doing what Ianto had done, or was he angry that he hadn't done the same? Tosh, on the other hand, seemed to feel more guilt, for both her part in Ianto's invisibility and the death of his girlfriend. She showed little anger, but instead a sad understanding, for she _had_ done everything once, to save someone she loved.

And then there was Gwen, who had not known Ianto as long, who had not seen the aftermath of Canary Wharf, who knew nothing of loss like the rest of them. Gwen was confused, scared, and trying desperately to put both aside and be the compassionate heart of the team she claimed to be. Jack, however, knew this was something she'd have to experience personally before she started to truly understand Torchwood, and after all that had happened, he was tired of her pushing, her pressing, and her innocent naiveté: looking down at Ianto, demanding to know whether Jack would have really shot him, so certain he wasn't capable of such a thing.

At the time, he could have definitely killed Ianto Jones; now, he wanted only to end the tragedy and start putting their lives back together, and that included Ianto.

He sent Gwen back into the Hub with instructions to take Tosh and Owen out for coffee and pastries. He'd assured her he wasn't planning on doing anything to Ianto that he would regret, but that he did not want an audience for their discussion. He wasn't anticipating anything going horribly wrong given Ianto's normally reticent nature, but then again, he'd never imagined that the Welshman was capable of such passion, anger, and violence as what they'd witnessed the night before. If Ianto became upset or aggressive, Jack wanted the man to be able to do so without his coworkers staring; a small part of Jack even welcomed the chance to fight, to deal with his own anger and sense of betrayal in a very loud and physical manner. Calling to Ianto, Jack saw the look of pure venom the man sent his way before nodding curtly and making his way toward Jack's office as the others filed out.

Ianto stood before his desk and watched the others leave before turning back toward Jack, his face now the blank butler's mask he'd worn with few exceptions since the day he'd arrived. "You sent them away on purpose."

"I did," Jack replied.

"Because you're going to execute me," Ianto stated. His jaw tightened and his fists clenched, but Jack saw no other sign of emotion.

"I'm not," Jack said, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Retcon, then?" Ianto took a flash drive from his jacket pocket and set it on the desk. "I took the liberty of preparing a new identity several weeks ago. All that remains is for Toshiko to make it official. I've also left detailed instructions regarding my duties around the Hub, the state of the archives, and all my local contacts regarding Torchwood activities."

Jack took the drive, turning it over in his hand and eyeing it with yet another wave of guilt and sadness, that a man with such talents had been driven to such actions, and that they had grievously overlooked so much about him. Ianto had assumed that if he was discovered, he would be executed or Retconned. It was procedure, after all. Perhaps creating a new life had been a coping mechanism of sorts, his way of preparing for the inevitable, yet it staggered Jack to think that Ianto could now hand it over with such detachment. Even worse, that he had taken the time to leave directions for the rest of them regarding his job. Jack was sure they'd all be shocked at how much he did, because they'd taken it for granted so quickly and completely.

Tossing the drive in a drawer, Jack shook his head. "I don't need it."

Ianto nodded, his eyes clouding with sadness. "You don't trust me. I could have embedded some sort of trigger, a way to regain my memories. Or set you up."

"Possibly," said Jack, standing and coming around the desk. "Did you?"

"No, sir."

"I didn't think so," Jack murmured. "But if I were going to Retcon you, I'd wipe out the last three years of your life and set up a new one that would at least give you a chance to survive. What's on that drive is probably nothing but self-flagellation."

Ianto twitched, but did not respond. Jack walked by him, hands tucked into his pockets as he paced the length of his office. He'd thought he'd known what to say, what to do, but with Ianto standing before him now, blank and accepting of whatever fate Jack dealt, it was far harder than he thought. He'd half hoped for anger, that Ianto would lash out again and give Jack a chance to shout back all the questions he still had. What had happened to him at Canary Wharf? How had he got her out, past UNIT, all the way to Cardiff and into the Hub? Why hadn't he told any of them, asked for help?

Jack had thought maybe the other man would be broken and grieving, and had steeled himself against offering comfort even though he desperately wanted to fix the broken man before him. This stoic acceptance was unnerving, even for Jack.

"I'm suspending you indefinitely, until you're ready to return and we're ready to have you."

Ianto whirled, his face contorted with a mix of anger and confusion. "What? You're suspending me?"

"At least a month, half pay. You'll be monitored, obviously," Jack continued, unable to discern whether Ianto was relieved or upset. "I'll be checking in with you, and—"

"No," said Ianto, taking a step forward and slashing his hand through the air. "It's against protocol."

"Excuse me?" Jack asked.

"I know what I did and I know Torchwood policy."

"I am Torchwood, and policy can change."

"Then I know British military law," said Ianto. "My actions demand summary execution for crimes against the crown. It's your duty to Queen and country."

Jack strode up to Ianto, stopping close enough to sense the other man's anger radiating from him. "You want that, don't you?" he murmured, and he watched Ianto's arm move almost involuntarily, fisted at his side, before he stepped away from Jack, gritting his teeth.

"What I want is irrelevant," Ianto replied. "It's what the law demands. Justice for the murders I committed."

Jack couldn't help but grin, knowing it was cruel but hoping to provoke more reaction to better understand Ianto's mental state. "I shot her, Ianto. Not you."

"My actions killed two innocent bystanders," Ianto snapped. "Their deaths are on _my_ conscience."

"Punishing you won't bring them back," said Jack, stepping closer. "And it won't absolve your conscience either. Trust me, I know."

"I won't have a conscience with a bullet in my brain!" Ianto hissed, and he lashed out and pushed Jack away before taking a deep breath and regaining some semblance of calm detachment again.

"I'm not shooting you."

"Drug cocktail then," Ianto replied coolly. "Owen would be happy to provide one. I'm sure he'd even administer it himself and call it a job well done."

"Stop it!" Jack snapped, his patience abruptly running out. "You're on suspension. You're to go home and pull your life back together. You've spent three months hiding from us, and it's time to stop." He took a breath. "Your punishment is to keep living. To atone for what happened last night."

Ianto stared at him so long, his eyes so wide and filled with such guilt and grief that Jack had to look away. "Fuck you," Ianto whispered, and he turned and left the office, every line of his body screaming with tension and anger. Jack followed warily as Ianto glanced wildly around the Hub, as if searching for something. When he started toward the armory, Jack immediately ran after him and grabbed his arm, Ianto's intent suddenly, frighteningly clear.

"No," he said as Ianto struggled against him.

"If you won't do it, I will!" Ianto shouted. "I've already done the paperwork and prepared the morgue, all you have to do is pull the goddamn trigger!"

"You what?" Jack asked, surprised enough to drop his guard. It earned him another right hook, but this time he was more prepared and able to duck away from most of it. The glancing blow barely rattled his teeth. With a growl, he grabbed Ianto's wrist, twisted his arm behind his back as he had the night before, and pushed him against the wall.

Ianto was more prepared this time as well, and used his free arm to elbow Jack hard in the stomach. His breath rushed out in a whoosh and his grip loosened, and Ianto broke free. Instead of continuing toward the locked armory, however, he shoved Jack down and sprinted toward the medical bay. Jack leapt up and tackled him around the shins, bringing him down hard in front of the stairs, kicking and swearing.

This was what more of what Jack had been expecting, yet the sheer ferocity of it still startled him, and it was all he could do to hold on, to slowly move up Ianto's body, dodging the almost hysterical, uncoordinated blows he rained with his hands, until Jack had the man pinned fast beneath him. Still Ianto struggled, until Jack let go of one of his hands and smacked him hard across the face, startling them both with the violence of it.

"Stop it!" he shouted as Ianto stared at him. "Or I'll do it again."

The Welshman's face went blank, his body limp, catching Jack off guard so that he lost his balance and began to pitch forward. With no warning, Ianto forced Jack off of him and scrambled to his feet, kicking Jack for good measure as he ran toward the stairs to the archives.

Jack jumped to his feet, his Webley in his hand. "Stop or I'll shoot."

Ianto turned around, placing his hands behind his head, the look in his eyes so devastating Jack could barely keep his weapon up. "Please," Ianto whispered, closing his eyes. "Just do it."

Jack walked slowly toward Ianto, once again unnerved, but this time by his own reaction. His hands were shaking. He was pointing his weapon at his own employee, _again,_ a man who had betrayed him personally and the team professionally, and he was shaking. He knew now that Gwen was right, that he would not have killed Ianto the night before, just as he could not kill him then. His hands betrayed him.

Ianto had not acted from spite, malice, or evil. He had acted on love. He had done terrible things and had put the entire world at risk, but he had done so with only one goal: to save his girlfriend. Jack knew that Ianto hadn't brought her to the Hub to create a new Cyber army and take over the world; he had wanted to get rid of the Cyber implants and restore the woman he loved. How could Jack condemn such a big heart to death?

Ianto knelt before him, staring straight ahead. It was exactly as he had done the night before, only offered freely; it was even close to the same spot. Yet this time Ianto did not spit venom and anger. There were no tears, no defiance, nothing. Only defeated recognition and an almost desperate hunger in his eyes that begged for a release Jack could not give him.

"Do it," Ianto said, his voice flat but steady.

Ianto Jones wanted to die. By the strict letter of the law, Ianto Jones deserved to die. Jack could do it, could execute him then and there with little to no repercussion other than the cleanup, paperwork, and dealing with the rest of the team. He knew the others would never understand, though. Well, Owen might, but Tosh would be heartbroken and Gwen would be furious at yet another demonstration of their lack of humanity. It wasn't the thought of his team that stayed his hand, however. It was his own conscience.

Jack did not want Ianto Jones to die, and he certainly did not want to be the one to kill him. This was a man of hidden depth and passion, a man who had made the worst mistake possible for the most noble of reasons. More than anyone Jack had met in his long life, Ianto Jones deserved a second chance. Hell, he deserved it more than Jack ever had, and Jack had been given dozens of second chances. His conscience would not let him give up on Ianto Jones, when he himself had done far worse.

A small part of Jack's mind recognized Ianto's unique talents as both useful and desirable. He also knew that his own guilt was motivating him: he had played a part in this, and instead of sweeping it under the rug and throwing Ianto's body into cold storage, he wanted to do something to make it better. Ianto was yet another one of Jack's failures as a leader, and though he hadn't been able to save Suzie, he would save Ianto. He refused to acknowledge any personal interest and only professional, though deep down he knew it was a lie; it was one reason Ianto's secret had hit him so hard.

"No," he said softly, gently placing his hand on Ianto's hair as if in benediction. Ianto bowed his head as his shoulders shook with grief. Jack sensed the moment when the man set despair aside and let anger return, however, and put him out of his misery with a sharp blow to the head with the butt of his gun before the man could attack. Ianto fell to the ground, unconscious.

Jack blew out a shaky breath. "I'm sorry," he said to the man on the ground. "But you are going to get through this. You might hate me now for letting you live, but maybe someday you'll thank me for not letting you die."

Knowing that he could not take Ianto home and let him sleep off his grief without the man endangering himself, Jack did the only thing he could think of: he called Flat Holm and told them to prepare for his arrival, his heart breaking over what he was about to do.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this ages ago, long before the Big Finish audio Broken was released. I finished most of it, and was slightly disappointed that the new canon jossed a lot of my story, even if it was a brilliant production. Yet every time I read what I wrote, I feel like it's still worth sharing, and so I'm finishing the last chapter, fudging canon a bit, and posting. It's a bit dark, and mostly character driven, a combination of the post-Cyberman/post-Adrift stories that populate much of Torchwood fanfiction, with alternating Ianto/present and Jack/past viewpoints. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy the story!


	2. Chapter 2

Two

Gwen stared at Ianto in shock. Though it had been over a year since his time on the island, he found himself unable to meet her eyes, feelings he thought he'd accepted and then buried returning with the memories. There was the anger, that Jack had done that to him, and fear, because he'd had no idea where he was or what he was doing there at the time. But more than anything was the never-ending shame, that he'd done something so horrific, that he'd fallen so far, that he'd needed so much help. It was shame more than anything that Ianto had struggled with for months, and still struggled with whenever he failed. Because that was what Flat Holm was for him: a reminder of failure that he worked tirelessly to correct.

"He sent you there…but Ianto…why? Why would he do that?"

Ianto tucked away the shame and tried to speak as objectively as he could. And though it made sense, he still felt the resentment from those first few days he'd spent in his own personal hell.

"I wasn't…myself," he said. "I think Jack told you I was with family after Lisa died, yeah?"

"He said you were staying with your sister in Newport," Gwen said quietly, still watching him closely, as if something was suddenly different about him. "Owen thought it was a bad idea, that you'd let slip about Torchwood and Lisa, but Jack…" She trailed off and swallowed. "Jack said something about how Owen had needed time to grieve after losing Katie, and that you deserved the same since you'd lost Lisa twice, as well as almost every other person you'd worked with at Torchwood One."

"Yeah, he told me he said that," Ianto murmured, shaking his head. "He felt terrible about it."

"Owen shoved him out of the way and stormed out, didn't come back the next day," Gwen replied. "So Tosh…well, Tosh told me about Katie, and Torchwood One, and it all made much more sense." She took his hand and squeezed. "I know I said it before, but I'm so sorry, Ianto."

He nodded his thanks, but did not speak, his throat too tight to reply.

"So you weren't in Newport, you were at Flat Holm?" she prodded gently, and he sighed as he fell back against the back of the sofa. He'd never talked to anyone about this, since no one else on the team had known about Flat Holm. And it had only come up with Jack once, when Jack had returned from his travels with the Doctor. Ianto had kept care of the facility when Jack had left, shouldering the secret alone. When Jack had gone to visit a few days after his return, Helen had filled him in on the state of things, including Ianto's diligent oversight and some of the improvements he'd made in Jack's absence. Jack had showed up on Ianto's doorstep late that night and begged for forgiveness with tears in his eyes. Forgiveness not only for leaving, but for Lisa, for Flat Holm, for everything. It had been a hard night for both of them, but it had also been a turning point.

"Like I said, I was not in a good place," Ianto replied. "I was…well, I was a danger, not to others, but to myself. If Jack had taken me home, or to my sister's, and left me for a month's suspension, I'm sure I would have been dead within the week."

Gwen gasped and turned toward him, leaning on her hand against the back of the sofa while her other hand touched his arm. "Ianto, no! I had no idea it was so bad!"

"Neither did I," he said, letting his eyes slip closed. "Until the moment it happened. Something within me snapped as I was standing in Jack's office, waiting for my sentence. I expected him to execute me, or Retcon me if I was lucky, and I remember just… breaking, feeling almost delirious with anger and pain. He sentenced me to live, and I couldn't bear it. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I tried very hard to end it several times that first week, starting right here in the Hub."

"But why did he take you to Flat Holm?" she asked. "There must have been other options."

"I couldn't very well be committed to Providence Park raving about Cybermen and Daleks, could I?" Ianto asked bitterly. "It made sense. It was secluded, private, and used to dealing with the unusual. And I survived to live another day, so it worked."

"You don't sound very happy about it," she pointed out. "Surviving, that is." He shrugged.

"I am, believe me, I am. But at the time, I was so pissed off at the world, and at Jack in particular, that I could have ripped his balls off and stuffed them down his throat."

"Ianto!" she exclaimed. "I don't believe it."

"It's true," he replied. "I was furious. Jack said I was almost incoherent at times."

She curled up next to him, and he put his arm around her again, drawing strength from her support. "It must have been so hard, so lonely."

"It was confusing," said Ianto, remembering his arrival at the island. "And frightening."

* * *

Ianto had regained consciousness by the time they got to the dock, which was good, because Jack hadn't any plan for getting him onto the boat, unconscious, in broad daylight. Ianto glanced down to where his hands were bound together with a complete lack of interest or reaction. He said nothing, did nothing, looked at nothing. Jack, however, could almost sense the man's mind at work, and knew without a doubt that Ianto would try to jump or run the moment he thought he could. So when they boarded the boat to Flat Holm, Jack handcuffed him to the railing and stood next to him, though not too close, knowing now how physically aggressive the man could be. He felt Ianto's anger, but stood stiff against the whispered onslaught of vile curse words and threats that Ianto muttered under his breath. He considered knocking Ianto out again, but wanted the man to understand where he was going and why. It was the hardest trip to the island he'd made yet; it was too personal.

When they landed, Jack unlocked the cuffs and placed one around his own wrist to ensure that Ianto did not run. There would be no jumping from the rocks, no attempts to fall to his death in the ocean. Once again there was no reaction, though when Jack looked closely, he thought he saw the tiniest spark of fear in Ianto's eyes. Fear was good; it meant that the man at least felt something besides anger and loss.

As they entered the bunker, Ianto glanced around dispassionately and spoke the first semi-civil words he'd said since leaving the Hub. "Where are we? Private prison? Or UNIT hellhole?"

"Neither," Jack replied. He led Ianto inside without another word, meeting Helen at the door with a quick one-armed embrace. She glanced curiously at Ianto, who was clearly nothing like any of the others Jack brought to the facility. He was clean, quiet, relatively uninjured (aside from the red welt on his face and the lump on his head where Jack had hit him), and Helen raised an eyebrow in question.

"Later," Jack told her quietly. "Is there a room ready? Away from the others?"

She nodded and directed him toward a back hallway. It was used mainly for storage, with a few empty rooms available for expansion if necessary. Jack opened the first door and brought Ianto inside, immediately assessing the room for threats.

There were two high windows, but no mirrors or other glass aside from the caged lightbulb. The bed appeared harmless, with a simple wooden table next to it. There was a chest of drawers and a single chair, all bolted down, and nothing else. Jack wracked his brain trying to think of other ways Ianto could hurt himself, but came up blank. The man beside him appeared to be doing the same and seemed disappointed.

"Sit down," Jack said, walking Ianto over to the chair. The other man sat down and gazed at him with a blank expression. "I'm going to take the cuffs off now, all right? And then I'll explain what's happening."

Ianto nodded once and Jack released his own wrist. Before he could even stand up straight and step back, Ianto had bolted from the chair and tackled him, bashing his head against the floor with murder in his eyes, screams ripping from his throat. Helen entered immediately with two large staff members, who grabbed Ianto by the arms and pulled him off Jack. With a groan, Jack rolled over and tried to stand, but failed; he was too shaky. Being attacked by Ianto Jones was quickly becoming one of his least favorite things.

"Sedate him," he said, spitting out blood from where he'd bit his cheek. Helen, always prepared for new arrivals, had a syringe and stepped closer. Ianto literally growled at her, and Jack stared in sick fascination at the transformation before him. Gone completely was the mild-mannered man who kept the Hub running so efficiently with his calm organization and dry wit, and in its place was a hissing, spitting, furious man laid bare to his core with grief and madness. Jack wondered again if he was doing the right thing, or if Ianto had perhaps gone insane and would be better off with a bullet in his brain.

No. Jack was not going to fail again.

He knew it was selfish and berated himself for it, but he refused to let Torchwood win and destroy Ianto Jones. Jack had hated the London branch, had known they were in too deep and would pay the price, but he had seen that awful price when he'd scoured the ruins searching for Rose Tyler: 796 dead or missing. Men and women laying everywhere, staring glassy-eyed at the ceiling. Body parts scattered amongst the desks and corridors. The smell of blood and burning flesh overwhelming, and the silence of complete and utter destruction heartbreaking. It had been an unnatural quiet, punctuated only by the crackling of electrical fires and the occasional sound of a UNIT officer being sick.

Jack had experienced the aftermath and it had given him nightmares. Ianto had not only lived through the horror of it, but he'd dragged his injured girlfriend out and done everything he could to save her. Jack couldn't begin to imagine what that had entailed, the sheer amount of desperate grit and determination Ianto must have needed to stay upright and sane, to get her out, to get to Cardiff, to fast talk his way into a job at the Hub—

Shaking his head, Jack stopped himself from going there. He'd spent the entire night turning it over in his head while he'd picked up the Hub and watched Ianto's cell, and it had only left him feeling sick. Right now he needed to get the situation under control, get Ianto settled in, let Helen and the others know something about what was going on so they could begin to help him. Then maybe he could stop and wallow in the horrific guilt that churned in his gut every time he looked at Ianto.

One of the orderlies pulled Ianto up tight, stopping his attempt at flailing, and Helen managed to plunge the needle into Ianto's upper arm. The man's eyes went from blazing mad to betrayed and hurt within seconds as he began to slump against the men holding him. Jack nodded toward the bed, and they dumped him unceremoniously on the stiff mattress.

"Looks like you'll have to talk to him later," Helen murmured. "Does he need to be restrained?"

Jack studied the young man on the bed and considered Ianto's extreme state of mind. Although he felt like he didn't really know Ianto anymore, he refused to believe that the man was an angry, violent person at heart. But Ianto was obviously shattered; he may have even had a clear psychotic break. With a reluctant sigh, Jack nodded.

"He's in a bad place," he said softly. "I wish I could say he'd wake up calmly and ask for coffee, but I think it's more likely he'll be…agitated, to say the least."

"Confused," Helen replied.

"Violent," said Jack. "He needs to be on a suicide watch, I think. He'll try anything, including attacking others. As you saw."

The orderly wrapped Ianto's hands in the soft leather restraints on the bed, and Helen took off his shoes before pulling a blanket over him. As she tucked it around his shoulders, she turned to Jack with a sad look. "He seems so…normal. What happened to him?"

"Not what you might think," said Jack. "Can we talk somewhere else? I could use some ice."

Really, the ice was a distraction. Jack needed the time and distance to think straight and pull together how much he should tell Helen. In spite of Ianto's betrayal, Jack did not want to share it with anyone else. There were times when traitors deserved nothing, not even their self-dignity, but Jack didn't see Ianto as a traitor, and he knew that destroying the man's last shreds of dignity by telling Helen the sordid story could ruin any chance Ianto had of recovery. And Jack wanted him to recover.

They went to the kitchen, where Helen wrapped some ice in a towel for Jack. He placed it at the back of his head, the headache still pounding even if the lump had started to heal, and sat down at a nearby table. She poured them two cups from the coffee maker percolating on the counter and joined him.

"What's his name, then?" she asked. "And his story. Because it's different, I can tell. Whatever happened to him."

"Yes, he's different," said Jack. "His name is Ianto, Ianto Jones. He…well, he works for me."

Helen raised an eyebrow in surprise. "That's unexpected. And he's here because…"

Jack set down the ice and rubbed his face with cold hands. He decided to go with as much of the truth as he could without breaking confidence or revealing classified information. "Do you remember, several months back, the attack at Canary Wharf?"

Helen nodded slowly. "Yes. The government said it was a terrorist attack, but they didn't say much else. Lots of conspiracies going around about it."

"There's more to it than that," said Jack, grimacing as he thought about the truth. "Much more. Almost eight hundred people were killed that day. Ianto is one of 27 survivors."

"So PTSD, then?" asked Helen, blowing on her coffee. Jack sighed again.

"Probably. If not then, definitely now. He came to work for me a few weeks later, and he seemed fine."

"Did you check?" Helen asked pointedly. Jack felt stirrings of the guilt and shame he'd been feeling ever since Ianto had kneeled before him and accused them of never asking about his life.

"No," he whispered. "Not really. He had a physical, and aside from some minor injuries that had healed, he seemed all right. He told us he wanted to move on."

"So he moved on," said Helen. "But now it's caught up."

Jack offered a bitter laugh. "You could say that. I didn't want to take him on in the first place, I admit. I was angry about what had happened in London. I knew someone at Canary Wharf who was killed. But he talked his way in, and from the first day, he did a damn good job at making himself both indispensable and invisible."

"Then what happened?" asked Helen. "Why is he here now, three months later, on a suicide watch?"

This was where Jack had to tread even more carefully. "His girlfriend was injured in the attack. He's spent the last three months trying to help her, but she died last night. It was…difficult, to say the least."

Helen was eyeing him carefully. "You're not telling me everything," she said, and Jack hung his head.

"I can't," he said, then met her eyes. "It's classified, for one—everything we do, even this. But more than that…I don't want to hurt him anymore than he's been hurt already. He deserves some dignity. If he wants to tell you about her, then it's up to him. I think he needs that now, to feel like he has a choice, has some control."

"I understand," Helen said. "That's very perceptive of you—and very kind."

"It's been known to happen once in a while," Jack offered with a poor attempt at a grin. Helen rolled her eyes and placed her hand on his.

"You're a good man, Jack," she said. "Fighting a lot of difficult battles, I suspect. I know it's hard for you, trying to help these people with almost no support, and I think it will be even harder with Mr. Jones. Were you close?"

Jack shrugged helplessly again. "I don't know. Not particularly. I mean, I knew nothing about his girlfriend until yesterday. He kept it secret…he kept a lot of secrets." Apparently Jack wasn't the only one good at hiding his past.

"He seemed exceptionally angry with you," Helen pointed out, unexpectedly striking right at the heart of it. "Does he blame you for her death?"

"Yes," whispered Jack. "Because in the end, he finally asked us to help her, and we couldn't. We couldn't save her."

At this, Helen frowned. "Could you have brought her here?"

Jack laughed, the sound slightly hysterical. "Ah, no. She was…let's just say, it would have been far too dangerous."

"All right, I'll take your word," she replied, and they were silent for a long moment. "So it's entirely possible he's suffered a breakdown from the trauma of Canary Wharf, repressing it for three months, and the death of his girlfriend."

"Judging from what I've seen over the last few hours, I'd say it's likely," said Jack. The thought made him sick, that this had happened on his watch. Again.

Helen sighed. "Captain, I know you're aware that the other patients we care for are quite different than Mr. Jones. Many are physically damaged, and their mental capabilities are even worse. For most of them, we're trying to keep them safe and comfortable. I'm not sure what we can do for Mr. Jones that a regular psychiatric facility couldn't do better."

Jack sat up straighter, defensive and concerned. "He may be physically uninjured, but this is the only place for him right now. He knows things…saw things at Canary Wharf…things I know the staff here can handle, but things that can't leave this island. Do you understand? You have to help him, keep him safe, help him get better. Because he can—he can get better."

After studying him closely, Helen nodded. "All right. Would it be possible for Dr. Howell to come by more often, then? He could work with Mr. Jones as well as a few others who might benefit from seeing him. I believe he has the right security clearance, does he not?"

Jack stood and nodded. "Absolutely. I'll contact him today. Thank you, Helen. I appreciate your understanding. This place would be lost without you."

"And these people would be lost without you," she said. "Now, as for Mr. Jones…"

Jack indicated the way back toward Ianto's room. "How long will he be out?" he asked.

"At least an hour or two," she replied.

"I'll wait, then," he said. "I can only imagine what might go through his head when he wakes up tied to the bed, and it won't be anything good." He offered a half smile, but didn't feel it himself. "In the meantime, maybe we can put together a plan for him."

She nodded and Jack told her a bit more about Ianto, everything he knew—or thought he knew about the man—before he settled down to wait for Ianto to wake up. He called the Hub to let them know he was out but would return that afternoon. When they asked after Ianto, he told them he would fill them in when he returned. And then he sat and thought about what to tell them.

The others did not know about Flat Holm, and he was not willing or ready to tell them. He also knew without a doubt that at least one of them would demand to see Ianto if he did, and that the Welshman would almost certainly not want to receive them. It would probably be best for Jack to tell the others that Ianto was with his family, and that he was not to be disturbed. Owen would roll his eyes and offer good riddance, Tosh would be disappointed, and Gwen would question why and push to contact him, but it was for the best.

Ianto would remain at Flat Holm, Jack would check on him as often as possible, and the rest of the team would be none the wiser, free to recover from their own trauma in their own time.

Jack only wondered if he would be able to recover as well.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick update so I can get on my even-numbered day posting schedule! Probably not every other day as winter break is over soon, but most of this is complete so it won't be long in between posts. Thank for you the amazing response to the opening!


	3. Chapter 3

Three

Gwen was silent for so long Ianto wondered if she was still awake. He chanced a look down and saw that she was staring across the Hub, her eyebrows drawn together as if she were thinking hard. For a moment he wondered if he had made a mistake in telling her about his confinement at Flat Holm. She was already reeling from what she'd experienced there, and it was possible he'd made it worse. He felt bad, but her stubborn naiveté was crippling at times, and she needed to move past it even if it hurt.

She must have sensed him watching, because she glanced up, her eyes wide with pity. He sighed; he should have been expecting it. Gwen didn't often turn her bleeding heart toward the team, but it appeared he was about to get the brunt of it.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I had no idea what really happened that day."

"No one did," said Ianto, shaking his head. "Jack respected my privacy, and I was grateful."

"Why are you telling me now?" she asked quietly. He shrugged in response, not ready to reveal his full intent.

"You asked, and I've never told anyone before." He paused. "It's not as hard to talk about it now, and I know from experience how important the island is for those who live there, those who need it."

She squeezed his hand, and he held onto it, surprised at how good it felt to share friendship and companionship with her. She was a strong presence on the team, but also a polarizing one who often put the needs of the one ahead of the needs of the many and failed to see the big picture. Gwen's compassionate nature was her strength, if only she showed the same consideration toward the others on the team as she did to the innocent victims they tried to save day in and day out. Especially Jack. Experiencing it now, Ianto was surprised to realize how effective it was, and wished she could give Jack her faith and compassion as well.

"How did you…" She paused, searching for the right word. "Adjust?" Her nose wrinkled as she cringed, and he smiled to himself with the realization that even Gwen could be uncomfortable and tongue-tied at times.

"I didn't at first," said Ianto. "It was difficult for everyone."

* * *

It was after lunch when Ianto woke slowly from sedation. For a brief moment, he looked peaceful, before realization washed over him and left him confused. He tried to move his hands but found them restrained, and panic flooded his face and eyes. Jack reached out to lay a hand on Ianto's shoulder, hoping to calm him, but the Welshman flinched violently and Jack pulled away, feeling strangely rejected.

"It's all right," he said softly. "You're safe."

"Bullshit," Ianto stated coldly, though his eyes were still wide with uncertainty and fear. "I'm tied to a bed in the middle of the Bristol Channel."

"Ah, so you remember where we are," Jack murmured. He was glad, having been worried that Ianto had completely snapped. At the same time, it meant he had a lot of explaining to do very quickly, before Ianto grew upset again.

"Of course I remember," Ianto spat, turning his head away. "How could I forget being knocked out and handcuffed to a boat? Where the hell are we?"

"You're on Flat Holm Island," Jack started, but Ianto interrupted him again, his voice so dry and bitter it raised the hairs on Jack's neck.

"I know that, _sir._ I wasn't aware that there was a secret prison for government traitors on that particular scrap of rock."

Jack took a deep breath, trying to keep from losing his temper and snapping back. Ianto was hurt and confused, and it made sense for him to lash out. Jack knew it, had been in the same position and done the same numerous times over his long life, but it was still hard not to respond with equal feeling.

"It's not a prison," Jack said as calmly as he could. He crossed his arms over his chest, futilely trying to protect himself from the anger radiating from the other man. "It's a medical facility, set up to care for victims of the Rift."

That stopped Ianto. His eyes went wide again, and it was a few moments before he found words. "Victims of the Rift? You mean…"

Jack sighed and leaned forward, elbows on his knees as if confessing. "Sometimes the Rift takes things, or people. And sometimes it brings them back, only they're usually...different. Injured, physically or mentally. Sick. Confused. Displaced in time. They come here to be looked after and protected."

"Protected from what?"

"Themselves," Jack replied honestly. "Most of them can't function independently anymore. And those few that can would be prime targets for someone like Torchwood London or UNIT to get their hands on, take advantage of and study."

"London's gone," Ianto murmured, voice laced with pain as his eyes slipped closed.

"They would have shot these people or experimented on them," Jack replied. "They've been through enough. So I help them."

"You help them?" Ianto's eyes flew open, ice blue with a cold hatred. "You? You held a gun to my head and shot my girlfriend, and yet you help people who fall through the Rift? Take care of them, _save_ them?"

"Yes," Jack whispered. "I try. But I couldn't save her."

Ianto struggled against his bonds. "You didn't _try_ to save her!" he snarled. "Not once, you didn't listen, you didn't even TRY!"

He would hurt his wrists if he didn't stop, but Jack didn't want to sedate him again, so he sat back and let Ianto struggle until he realized how useless it was and fell back with a curse.

"I'm sorry," Jack said when Ianto had quieted. He was surprised to find that his voice was steady, even though inside he was a mess of fear, rage, and guilt. "There was nothing I could do. You have to believe me. I know Cybermen, Ianto. I know—"

"You didn't know her!" he shouted. "She was different!"

"I know you think so," said Jack, irritation warring with grief for this broken man. "The conversion wasn't complete. You loved her. You wanted to save her. I wish there was something, anything we could have done, but there's no going back from something like that, Ianto. None."

"You don't know that," he whispered.

"I do!" Jack exclaimed, letting his exasperation show. "And I hate it, hate that it happened, hate what I had to do, but I had to stop her. I had to protect the team, protect the entire planet. You saw her, she was—"

"Stop," Ianto said, and his voice was filled with more anguish than Jack had ever heard. "Just stop. You don't get to talk about her, not like that."

Jack blew out a breath and waited. He wasn't sure what to say next and decided to wait for Ianto's next question.

"So you saved the others, saved the _planet_ ," he said, bitter sarcasm clear. "What about me?"

Jack frowned. "What about you?"

"What the hell am I doing here, _Jack?"_ he asked. Jack felt a tightness in his chest. Ianto so rarely called him by name that he enjoyed it even more when it happened, but not when Ianto could fill his name with such hatred as he did then; that hurt more than Jack wanted to think about.

"I'm not a fucking Rift refugee," Ianto continued, staring dully at the ceiling, though Jack could sense the anger bubbling beneath the surface, waiting to explode again. "I'm not displaced in time, injured, or incompetent. So why am I here?"

Jack studied him. "Do you remember what happened at the Hub this morning?"

Ianto rolled his eyes, far more cutting than the simple exasperation he usually expressed. "I'm not a bloody idiot either," he snapped. "I was there, I remember."

"You wanted me to kill you," Jack pointed out. "You tried to kill yourself."

"You should have executed me," Ianto lifted his head, but could not raise it much with his arms still restrained. He fell back and swore several more times under his breath, including some colorful Welsh words Jack had not heard from him before. "Don't think you can change my mind by locking me up with the poor sods the Rift spat out."

"Jesus, Ianto!" Jack finally exclaimed, unable to take any more. "I'm trying to help you!"

"Why?" Ianto asked with preternatural calm. "It's a little late for that, don't you think? So if you won't do it, let me finish what you couldn't. I'll make it quick and clean."

"And the paperwork's already done," Jack replied bitterly.

"Exactly." Ianto grinned, a dark, ugly smile that did not sit well on his normally handsome face. "Drawer 007 is laid out and prepared. I even pressed a suit, it's in my locker. So let me out, and I'll take care of it."

"No! You are not going to kill yourself. I'm not going to let you die."

"Right," Ianto drawled. "I get to go home and sit on my arse for a month. _Suspension._ Pick up the pieces, move on, and be ready to come back to work and serve coffee to the people who shot my girlfriend. Fuck that." He started struggling against the restraints again. Jack was certain the man's wrists would be sore, if not bruised and bloodied soon.

"You're going to stay here," Jack said quietly, trying to hold strong against the raging storm before him. "We're going to help you."

"I don't want your help!" Ianto shouted, struggling even more. "I wanted your help yesterday, for Lisa, and you put a gun to my head! So fuck you! Fuck you, Jack!" He deteriorated into almost mindless shouting interspersed with sobbing, leaving Jack somewhat speechless. He tried to wait it out, but whenever Ianto quieted and Jack began to speak, the man railed against him, spitting venom like a threatened snake and pulling at the wrist straps. Jack stepped out and motioned for an orderly, concerned for Ianto's safety. Ianto's eyes went wide when the man entered and his struggles increased tenfold. But he was no match for the needle that was plunged into his arm, and he soon stopped struggling. Silent tears streamed from his eyes as he fought the powerful sedative. Jack nodded to the orderly, who left them as Jack moved closer.

He reached out to brush a lock of hair away from Ianto's ear, but stopped himself when the other man flinched again. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. Ianto's eyes closed. His lips moved, but Jack did not hear what he said.

"I'll be back to check on you tonight when I can get away from the Hub." He turned to leave.

"Don't bother," Ianto replied, his words starting to slur. Jack stopped but did not turn around. "I don't want this," Ianto continued. "I don't deserve it."

"What do you want?" Jack asked, dreading the answer.

"I want to be with her," Ianto whispered. His eyes flipped open, eerily clear for one brief moment, and full of determination. "And I will."

Jack felt a shiver from his head to his toes. Ianto's grim resolve was frightening. He shook his head and left the room, pulling the door shut behind him and leaning against it to calm his racing heart.

"You won't," he murmured to no one but himself. "I will save you this time, I promise."

Promise made, Jack left to return to the mainland, his heart heavy. Ianto may have been determined to die, but Jack was determined to help the man live.

* * *

It was close to midnight when Jack returned to Flat Holm, hoping to see Ianto better settled in. It had been a difficult day at the Hub, with both Owen and Gwen constantly asking about Ianto's absence. Jack had finally snapped at Owen when he'd questioned him one to many times, and the doctor had literally walked out without another word. What was frustrating was that Jack couldn't get a read on either of them. Were they concerned for Ianto's pain and suffering, or were they more worried about his punishment?

Owen spoke of gladly helping Jack execute the Welshman, proving Ianto's words that the doctor would be happy to administer a drug cocktail. Jack wasn't sure Owen meant it, or if he was lashing out from misplaced emotions. The situation was, in some ways, eerily close to Owen's own loss, when his fiancée had been killed by an alien parasite. Owen had tried everything he could to save her only to lose her in the end. Did he see the parallels in Ianto's situation, or was he too blinded by anger? Ianto had betrayed them all, and endangered their lives however unintentionally.

Gwen was also hard to pinpoint, her usual sense of compassion having clearly taken a hit by fear as well. She had almost been converted, after all, and though they had survived unscathed, perhaps it was difficult for her to let go of the experience. She was also confused; she had known Ianto the shortest, and had not experienced or seen anything to do with Canary Wharf. Perhaps one day she might understand better, and not only the enormity of the danger that they'd been in, but also the extent of Ianto's suffering and loss.

Then again, Jack himself did not know the entire story of Ianto's involvement in the nightmare at Canary Wharf. What exactly had he experienced during the battle? How had he found Lisa? And how the hell had he got her out without being caught, kept her alive all the way to Cardiff, and assembled a life support unit right under their noses without giving anything away?

Jack could barely wrap his mind around it—going through something so horrific and then continuing to live the nightmare for months afterward. He seriously doubted for all his experience whether or not he could have done what Ianto had done in terms of keeping Lisa alive and remaining determined to save her. It was a testament to the man's courage and resolution, and a stunning revelation of the man's intelligence and abilities. He'd come to the Hub content to be their butler, taking care of the team and doing all the things that entailed, from coffee and food to cleaning and filing. And yet Ianto Jones clearly knew more than they had ever suspected and was capable of more than they ever saw.

Turning this over as he stepped off the boat and made the trek to the bunker in the dark, Jack pondered once again how Ianto had remained so focused and yet so blind to the danger before him. Or maybe he had known, but had considered the risk one worth taking. He'd loved his girlfriend, though Jack suspected there was much more going on in the man's head. Ianto Jones was someone worth saving, if he could love so completely.

The residents were quiet, given the late hour. Helen joined him in the kitchen for a short briefing over tea. Ianto had not spoken to anyone all day, and had refused to eat a single bite. And he was still restrained after attacking one of the orderlies and trying to run when he'd been released to use the loo. Jack sighed in disappointment, knowing the Welshman was trying to regain some semblance of control and hoping he could convince the man to at least eat something, as well as cooperate for bathroom breaks.

He knocked on Ianto's door; when there was no answer, he quietly entered anyway. If Ianto was asleep, Jack would spend the night and speak to him in the morning. If not, perhaps they could talk, and Jack could answer the questions Ianto must have, as well as begin to gather the answers to his own many questions about Lisa Hallett and Canary Wharf.

Ianto was still restrained, though he had been given a pair of blue scrubs to replace his bloodied suit. He was awake, staring at the wall to his right, his face pale and dotted with stubble. Jack took a deep breath to speak, hesitated, then tried again.

"How are you, Ianto?" he asked. When there was no answer, he waited. Ianto did not turn to look at him, did not even twitch at the sound of Jack's voice. After a while Jack tried again, and was once more ignored. Biting back his frustration, Jack stood to leave. He'd stay overnight in the room he kept on the island and try again the next day.

"You should get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning. I know you probably don't believe me, but you're safe here, and I'm going to help you through this."

The lack of reaction stung, but Jack left the room as determined to save Ianto as he'd been when he'd entered.

* * *

When he went to Ianto's room the next morning, the man was asleep, or playing at it very well. Not wanting to wake him, Jack went to visit the other residents, spoke with some of the staff, and returned to check on Ianto. The Welshman was awake, but Jack received the same lack of response as he had the night before and felt his frustration growing. He was almost relieved when his phone buzzed. It was Tosh, informing him of a small Rift alert. While the others could have handled it, he decided to head back and check on Ianto again later, if not the next day. He could use the distraction, and perhaps Ianto needed some time and space on his own to begin his journey toward healing.

* * *

Jack returned later that night, but did not stay long. Ianto was still non-responsive. He'd refused to eat all day and had once again attacked the orderly who tried to help him even with his hands restrained in front of him. Dr. Howell, the psychiatrist who visited weekly, had tried to speak with him as well to little was growing frustrated and discouraged with Ianto's grim, silent determination to shut down, especially when it involved hurting others. Helen was upset for her staff and did not want to put them at risk if Ianto continued his aggressive behavior.

Although Jack had his doubts, he still hoped to get through to the man. He went back to the mainland and sat on the rooftop of the Millennium Centre, trying to figure out how he could help Ianto. But he had rarely been at a bigger loss for words or action, and he finally returned to the bunk beneath his office feeling nothing but tired and cold, questioning his decision to save Ianto from his own demons. How could he help someone who did not want to be saved?

He slept fitfully, his dreams filled with visions of Cybermen invading the Hub. They did not convert him and they did not kill him, but they taunted him, over and over. Metal voices echoed around him, damning him and accusing him—that he didn't care about his team, because he was a failure, less than worthless; that he had lost Suzie, and now they would take Ianto.

Jack woke gasping and sweating, but with renewed resolve to help Ianto. He would not let either of their demons win.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of the amazing comments! It makes me want to write more, to continue this past my initial ending point, but there are so many other stories I want to write I think it will remain seven chapters. Enjoy!


	4. Chapter 4

Four

"Oh Ianto," said Gwen, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Why didn't Jack tell us any of this? We could have helped you!"

Ianto shook his head. "No, you couldn't. I imagine you were all dealing with it yourselves, your own feelings about what had happened…what I'd done. I doubt any of you would have been able to look beyond that at the time."

"Jack did," she pointed out.

"Jack is…remarkably unique in that way," Ianto said quietly.

Gwen studied him, as if trying to puzzle out his enigmatic words. Before she could fire more questions at him, he offered more.

"Jack has an exceptional sense of understanding, considering his long life, and an almost endless capacity for forgiveness, given his own experiences."

She nodded, clearly still trying to understand, although considering how she professed herself so close to Jack, Ianto couldn't help but wonder why she was having such a hard time with it. Or maybe it was him, and not Jack, that she was struggling to figure out.

"How long were you there?" she asked.

"Most of my suspension," he said.

"You seemed better when you came back," she said, then backtracked. "At least, better than what you're describing."

He nodded. "I was. I still had a long way to go, but I felt ready. I wanted to move on from that part of my recovery."

"I always wondered how you were able to come back." She hesitated. "What happened at Flat Holm?"

"Quite a lot, actually," Ianto replied with a dry chuckle. "Sometimes it's hard to believe I was ever there. It didn't really hit me for a few days, to be honest."

"And when it did?" she asked.

"It was hard," he said, remembering his first real conversation with Jack…

* * *

Entering Ianto's room at dinnertime the next day, Jack found the man staring blankly at the ceiling, his face wet with tears. With his hands still restrained, he could not wipe them away, and he turned his face away from Jack, blinking rapidly. Jack set down the food he had brought, took a deep breath, and was about to speak when Ianto beat him to it.

"Come to watch the freak show?" he asked.

"What freak show?" Jack replied, confused. Ianto slowly rolled his head over, offering the same "Whatever" look he'd given Jack in the park when he'd been trying to get a job. Then it had been almost sexy; this time it cut, even with tired, red-rimmed eyes.

"Former Torchwood employee gone mad, restrained for his own safety, unable to feed or relieve himself." His eyes slipped closed. "Freak show on ward six."

"You're not a freak show," Jack replied as evenly as he could, though he was slightly horrified by Ianto's words. "And you're not on ward six."

Ianto raised an eyebrow, and Jack rolled his eyes. "And if you stopped attacking people, you'd be free to use the loo whenever you need. But if you insist on exercising that right hook of yours every time your arm is free, then you'll be looking at a catheter for doing your business."

Ianto narrowed his eyes. "You're bluffing."

"Not about this," Jack replied, holding his gaze. "You might not want to be here, hell you might not even want to be alive, but that doesn't give you the right to injure the people who work here. They have jobs to do, a responsibility to the patients here, and they can't do that when you hurt them."

Ianto stared at him, then nodded curtly. Jack released a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. He wasn't sure whether he could entirely trust Ianto given his state of mind, but it was a start, and Jack would take every small victory he could at the moment. It was a blatant manipulation of Ianto's sense of duty and guilt, but Jack had always done what he had to do, especially when it saved lives.

"Are you hungry?" he asked. He came over and released Ianto's right hand, tensing in case it lashed out at him. Ianto's wrist was red and bruised from struggling, and he flexed his fingers several times as he shook his head.

"I have food," Jack continued. "You should eat something. Have you had anything since you got here?"

"Not interested."

"Right," Jack murmured. "Can you at least try? I brought Italian—bread, pasta, meatballs."

"Not interested," Ianto repeated flatly.

"A drink, then," Jack insisted. "You need to stay hydrated, or they'll stick a needle in you."

"I don't need anything, sir," said Ianto. "I don't want anything. Why are you here?"

"I said I'd come back," Jack replied.

"To kill me?"

"To check on you."

Ianto took a breath, as if holding back his temper. "Don't bother, unless you've got that drug cocktail prepared."

Jack jumped up and started pacing, abruptly losing patience with Ianto's death wish. He wasn't sure he liked this flat, broken version of the man; the angry Ianto at least had spirit. "Why are you so determined to die?"

"It's what I deserve," Ianto replied dully.

"Why?"

Ianto ran his free hand through his dirty hair with a grimace. "Because I'm guilty."

"Of what?" Jack asked.

"Of murder!" he exclaimed. "Christ, Jack, you're not very good at playing dumb, you know."

"Who did you kill?" Jack wasn't sure what point he was trying to make, but he was determined to somehow talk to Ianto about what had happened at the Hub. Why it wasn't entirely his fault, and why he didn't deserve to die because of it.

"I…" He trailed off, eyes closed. "I let her kill them, the doctor and the pizza girl. Annie. God, Annie…"

"Were you there when she killed the doctor?" asked Jack. He was surprised at how normal his voice sounded, how calm he felt. At the time, he'd been furious; it was remarkable what a few days could do for his temper as well as his perspective.

"No," Ianto said, shaking his head. "I left them downstairs when the team came back. She tried…god, she tried to convert him." His eyes met Jack's, bright and broken. "He was trying to help her."

"She wasn't herself, Ianto," Jack said as gently as he could. "She—"

"No!" Ianto said forcefully. "She was…she was fine until he came. Until he poked and prodded her. And even then, the look on her face when she could stand up and breathe on her own…she was so happy to be free."

"Then I'd guess it was something to do with releasing her from the life support system that triggered the conversion to continue." Jack knew about Cybermen, but not everything, and very little about partial conversions. Either releasing Lisa from the support unit had completed her mental conversion, or she had been manipulating Ianto to her own endgame for some time. Jack knew which scenario he preferred, and decided not to even mention the other one to Ianto.

They were silent for a long while, the conversation derailed. Jack had many more questions, but sensed that asking them at that moment could be more damaging, and that Ianto needed to feel safe before he answered them.

"What happens now?" Ianto finally asked.

"I'd suggest eating something, then getting some sleep since you look like you've been awake for days," said Jack. He ignored Ianto's withering stare and continued. "Then you get up and you start to live again. Step by step, day by day. You remember her, the woman she was before Canary Wharf, and you mourn her, but _your_ life goes on."

"That's a crap plan," Ianto replied, sounding casual and conversational. "Because I don't want to eat something, Jack. I don't want to sleep. I definitely don't want to wake up, mourn her, and move on. I want the fucking nightmare that has been my life for the last three months to end!" He was breathing heavily by the end, clearly emotional once more.

Jack stared at the floor. He understood—god, he understood. The intense desire to end it all, to escape the pain and the guilt and the never-ending feeling of hopelessness. He'd spent years losing himself to drugs, to alcohol, to sex, always trying to escape the darkness and despair within him. He'd killed himself several times for brief periods of respite and relief, yet he always came back, forced to carry on because he couldn't seem to stay dead.

Was that why Jack was pushing Ianto now? Was he forcing Ianto to carry on because Jack had no choice and Ianto did? Jack tried to tell himself that wasn't the case, but it wasn't very convincing. It was probably one of many reasons why Jack would not give up on the man in spite of what he had done. In the end, Ianto was worth saving. Ianto deserved it more than Jack ever had.

"I think you should talk to someone," Jack said. "Dr. Howell will be back tomorrow, you should talk to him."

Ianto shook his head. "I don't need a psychiatrist."

"It's not a bad thing," Jack insisted, leaning forward. "It's his job to help people, like a mechanic fixes cars, or a doctor cures his patients."

"I'm not a car," Ianto snapped. "You can't take me apart, clean out the dirt and grime, and put me back together again."

"Why not?" asked Jack.

"I don't need it," Ianto replied flatly.

"But you do," Jack insisted, taking a chance on pushing the other man through his denial. "You need to face what happened, to process it, and deal with it. Ianto, I've seen this before, in war. Post-traumatic stress is not something to be taken lightly. It's serious."

Ianto gazed at him in wide-eyed skepticism. "I'm not suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, Jack. I lost my girlfriend."

"I'm not a doctor, but I think you could be. You didn't just lose your girlfriend, she was killed. You went through something horrific at Canary Wharf, Ianto. I wasn't there, but I saw the aftermath. I can only imagine what you experienced, and I can't even begin to think how you survived, how you stayed strong enough get her out and keep her alive. And then to come here and get a job and keep trying to save her, only to lose her in the end. Jesus, Ianto. You might have put the entire world at risk, but that's a hell of an accomplishment. You are _strong—_ strong enough to get through this."

Ianto's jaw was so tight Jack thought the man's teeth might crack. But Ianto didn't say anything, so Jack continued. "I'm not saying I agree with what you did and how you did it, but I understand _why_. And more than that, I understand the pain and loss you're feeling now. I've been there, so many times. It does get better, but it takes time. You have to try. And I know you can."

"Why?" Ianto whispered, his voice thick with despair. "What's the point?"

"I can think of several," said Jack, hoping that he might somehow get through to Ianto, convince him to live. "For one, would she want you to fall apart now? You tried so hard to help her, did everything in your power to save her, but after all that you're going to give up on yourself? Would she really want that?"

Ianto's face flushed with anger. "Fuck you."

"Keep saying that and I might have to take you up on it," Jack replied, forcing the levity even though he didn't feel it. "Then there's you, what do you really want, deep down when you let yourself be honest? To die, or to accept what happened, move on from it, and live again? I know about living with the grief and guilt, Ianto. Believe me, I know."

"Then you know it's not so easy!" Ianto snapped. "People died because of me!"

"No, it's not easy. It's a burden you carry forever, but you can't let it destroy you. Not like this, not because of something you did out of love." Jack was surprised at the words coming out of this mouth, but found they were all true.

"I don't know how," Ianto whispered. Jack leaned forward.

"You make the burden lighter," he said. "You work for redemption. You give meaning and purpose to her death by making the world a better place. So that something like Canary Wharf doesn't happen again."

That got him. Ianto glanced up at him, stunned. "No," he said, shaking his head as if terrified of the very thought.

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Why do you think I do this? Okay, so I like the danger and excitement, but I also do this to protect people. To protect the planet. London lost sight of that, but I can damn well do it here in Cardiff. And I could really use a man like you on my team."

"What?" asked Ianto, once again thrown for a loop. Jack kind of liked leaving him speechless. He stuttered a bit more. "You mean, to keep you caffeinated and from drowning in your own mess again."

Jack shook his head, hiding his frown. This was what would be most difficult, not only convincing Ianto to return, but that he mattered. Ianto had been exactly right when he'd snapped at Jack that he was the one to clean up their shit, no questions asked. Jack had been thinking about it constantly ever since. Yes, Ianto cleaned the Hub, kept it up and running. It was what he had offered in the warehouse where they had caught the dinosaur, and it was what he had done from the moment he'd stepped into the Hub. He had immediately started cleaning, organizing, and streamlining procedures at the Hub. He'd got the coffee maker working, taken it on himself to order food, reopened the tourist office, and started retooling the archive system.

Really, it was a wonder Ianto had been able to do so much with Lisa in the basement, demanding his constant care and attention.

Yet he had done it all without complaint and barely a comment otherwise. He'd occasionally let slip his dry sense of humor, but more often than not had appeared content to work in the background, toiling away without asking for acknowledgement or thanks. Ianto had let himself become invisible in order to hide his girlfriend, and they had accepted that. Which meant he had no idea how important he truly was, how much he did for them, and how much it helped. Jack wasn't sure he could convince Ianto of it, but he would try.

"No, I mean keep us organized. Keep us informed and on time. Keep us honest." Jack shook his head in amazement. "I don't know how you managed it. From the first week, you took control of everything that needed doing, everything we were terrible at, and you turned things around within a month and made it better. Yes, we might be addicted to coffee now, but you know more about running the Hub than any of the others, and it shows it everyone's work. In our work as a team. We are more effective because of you, Ianto. We are _better_ because of what you do for Torchwood."

Ianto turned his head away, denying Jack's words. "You don't need me. There's a Starbucks around the corner."

"We need you, and I want you." Jack thought about how that sounded and decided to ignore it. They were talking about Torchwood and he was the leader, after all, so Ianto couldn't possibly read anything into it, no matter how Jack meant it.

When Ianto turned his head back, he was almost sneering, though Jack thought he saw uncertainty in the other man's eyes. "I don't believe you. Why won't you really kill me? Are you afraid?"

Jack laughed, a sharp bark that must have surprised Ianto because he jumped. "I've killed men before, Ianto. Many men. Never underestimate me when it comes to that."

"Only when it comes to hiding cyber conversion units in your basement?" Ianto asked. It was obvious he was goading Jack, and Jack had to admit, the comment made him angry. Not for the reasons Ianto would assume, however. It reminded him once more of how little effort he had made to see Ianto, to get to know Ianto after his initial introduction to the world of Torchwood Three. Jack had judged him surprisingly well adjusted after Canary Wharf and, given his sharp performance during his first few weeks, had quickly come to trust and depend on Ianto. In hindsight, it had been easier to dismiss any concerns about Ianto as a former employee of Torchwood One or a survivor of Canary Wharf than to actually deal with them. Jack had no love for London and hated how its hubris had destroyed so many lives. So it had been easier to move on and put it behind him.

Now, however, his own part in the tragedy was laid bare. In many ways, he had failed Ianto even more than Ianto had failed his girlfriend. At least Ianto had tried to save her; Jack had not bothered to see or talk to or get to know Ianto, which had made it that much easier for Ianto to hide Lisa beneath them for so long. Jack had failed him, and it was that reminder that angered him as much as the hidden unit itself.

He bit back his initial, hostile response, trying to think through his words. Deep breaths once again helped settle his mind before he replied. "I didn't see it because I didn't want to," Jack said. He avoided Ianto's piercing gaze and stared at a crack in the wall. "I had no reason to suspect anything, after all, and to be honest, I wanted to put everything about London and Canary Wharf behind, including you. I should have made sure you were all right, should have asked about it, about anything. But between your connection to London and your unique ability to work quietly behind the scenes, get the job done, and almost make yourself invisible, I didn't. It was easier that way. And I'm sorry."

His apology seemed to have completely defeated Ianto's angry outburst. He turned his head away from Jack, eyes closed, but Jack could see the man's chest rising and falling quickly, as if he were holding back strong emotion. After several minutes of silence, Jack took a breath to try again. He stood up and released Ianto's other hand from the restraints, hoping he was not making a terrible mistake.

"Will you eat something?" he asked softly. Ianto shook his head and did not look at him. "Will you think about what I said?" After a long moment of silence, Ianto nodded. The simple motion filled Jack with hope, that maybe, just maybe, they could pull through this. He turned to leave, dinner in hand. He'd probably leave it with Helen since he wasn't hungry anymore.

"Jack?" said Ianto as Jack turned to go. Surprised and ridiculously glad to hear his name in a way that was not filled with vitriolic hatred, Jack stopped and smiled, raised an eyebrow in question. "I don't think I can do this."

Jack swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. "You can."

"It doesn't matter," Ianto murmured. "Nothing matters."

"You matter, Ianto," Jack replied quietly. "More than anything right now. Which is why I'll be back tomorrow and the day after and the day after that. Whatever it takes, until you believe me."

Ianto blew out a breath and settled back with his eyes closed, curling in on himself. Jack hoped the young man would sleep peacefully that night, though he doubted it. He thought about staying, but decided instead to return in the morning. It would be Saturday, and Owen was on call at the Hub while the girls took the day off.

Mind made up and spirit somewhat lighter with a dash of hope, Jack left the take away with Helen and returned to the mainland, ready to start over the next day.


	5. Chapter 5

Five

Ianto wondered why he was telling her any of this. Gwen Cooper was one of the last people he'd ever thought he'd share his story with. She was a good agent and coworker, even a friend of sorts, yet in spite of her strengths, her faults often rubbed him the wrong way. Her stubborn insistence on absolute morality—black and white, right and wrong—was difficult to deal with in their particular working environment. Torchwood was not black and white, not ever; it was grey to its core, constantly skirting the line between right and wrong, too often sacrificing the good of the few for the good of the many. And Gwen, even after a long, difficult year, still failed to grasp that much of the time.

The situation with Jonah Bevan was one of those times. Her lack of faith and trust in Jack led her to push him hard; Ianto hated how much her doubt caused Jack to question both himself and his actions regarding Flat Holm and the Rift survivors. In a way, Jack had been right in not telling the others, and Gwen in particular. He had suspected from the start that she would have a hard time accepting the secrecy surrounding the island; when she had found out about it, she had proven him right and insisted on sharing it with Jonah's mother.

It was the perfect example of why so much of what they did remained secret and covered up with lies. Though Nikki Bevan had refused Retcon, surely the utter despair and hopelessness that she now carried was far worse than the hope that her son was alive and well. How could any mother accept that their child had been taken by a rift in space and time, aged decades, and seen horrors so indescribable that they screamed for hours every day? No parent should have to bear that. It was why Tosh and Ianto worked so hard to cover up the deaths they dealt with, to spare the loved ones left behind the pain.

Yet Gwen's single-minded pursuit of the truth had failed to recognize that facet of human behavior, that sometimes ignorance and hope was preferable to the dark realities of life. She had not considered what seeing her son in such a state would mean to Nikki, how much more pain it would cause. She had only wanted to give her peace with the knowledge that her son was alive. It had backfired in the worst way possible, and not only was Gwen reeling from it, but so was Jack.

Jack knew what he was doing. Oh, there were times in the field, in the heat of the moment, where he improvised and flew by the seat of his pants, but even then, Jack had decades of experience and honed instinct directing his actions. Ianto trusted him implicitly, more than he had trusted anyone in his life. He would never understand why Gwen felt the constant need to push the boundaries, why she couldn't accept Jack's incredible life experience, why she never believed that his decisions were going to be the best decision because he'd seen and done so much more than them, even if it didn't feel right to _her_. She had such little faith in Jack, and Ianto hated that.

She could also be condescending and patronizing, not to mention naïve, ignorant, and even cruel toward her teammates, as she had aptly demonstrated after Rhys had been shot trying to rescue the space whale. Frequently selfish and equally oblivious, she'd grown a lot during her year with Torchwood, but the constant stress with Jack—and Ianto didn't kid himself that there wasn't an element of physical or romantic tension involved—was a frequent drain on the team, an uncomfortable situation that often ignored both Ianto's and her husband's feelings in the matter. It had let up somewhat once she'd finally walked down the aisle with Rhys Williams, but even then, Ianto didn't breathe any easier that her personal interests had evaporated overnight, because those sorts of things usually didn't. In the months since the wedding, things around the Hub had been slightly more relaxed, but then Flat Holm happened, and the fragile peace was shattered.

No, it was definitely strange to be sitting and talking to Gwen Cooper about his time at Flat Holm. Yet he wanted her to know how important it was to those people, and to Jack. That it was the only place for them, that the people there did good work. And above all that she needed to trust Jack and have faith in him. If that meant sharing something he'd held back from everyone else in his life, then he would. Maybe it would help him, as well.

"Did it get easier after that?" Gwen asked, interrupting his thoughts. He sighed, realizing there was still much, much more for him to tell her.

"Slowly, but yes, it did."

"How did it help you?" she asked. "Being at Flat Holm. It seems like such a sad, lonely place."

"It many ways, it is," said Ianto. "But it other ways, it's a place full of hope, strength, and resilience. Did you meet any of the residents besides Jonah?"

She shook her head, and Ianto smiled to himself as he recalled some of the others affected by the Rift, particularly those he had met during his stay on the island, those he had helped and who had helped him. "They're good people. Broken, but good. We've lost a few this year, but there are others who've made so much progress. The island is important to them." He turned to face her. "It's their only home now."

She frowned, as he knew she would, and he stopped her before she could make her argument. They'd all heard it a dozen times before.

"Do you understand why they're there, Gwen? And why they have to stay there, away from their families?"

She glanced away and sniffed. With a nod, she answered reluctantly. "Yes, I understand. But that doesn't make it right, that they have to be locked up there like prisoners."

"It's not right, no. It's a terrible tragedy, because in a way, they _are_ prisoners," Ianto pointed out. "Prisoners of their minds and bodies, stuck there all because of the Rift. It's no one's fault, and we are doing the best we can. We _are_ helping them, you have to believe that!" Though Jack had opened the facility and run it for years, Ianto had worked tirelessly since his time there to make it better, and even through the heartbreak, he took pride in what they were doing there.

"I do," Gwen said quietly, and sniffed again. "Tell me how it helped you."

"It wasn't only the island," said Ianto, shaking his head. "Although the people there were incredibly patient and kind."

"What changed then?" she asked. He met her eyes.

"It was Jack," he said. _Only him._

* * *

When Jack returned the next morning, he found Ianto once again restrained to the bed. When he attempted to ask what had happened, he was met with nothing but stony silence. With a sigh, he left to find Helen.

"What happened?" he asked as they had a cup of coffee together. "To Ianto. He seemed all right when I left yesterday. He didn't attack anyone, did he?"

She shook her head. "No, he didn't. Whatever you said to him about that seems to have helped, and he was much more cooperative. Thank you."

"Then why is he restrained again?"

"He attacked himself."

"What?" Jack exclaimed. "What do you mean, he attacked himself?"

"He's severely depressed and suicidal, Captain," answered a voice behind him. Jack turned to find Benjamin Howell, the psychiatrist he'd first brought to the island years ago. Howell was a middle-aged consultant for UNIT, well paid to keep his duties at Flat Holm from his other employer. He usually spent one day a week at the island working with the residents, his experience with UNIT lending him the expertise to readily accept and understand the unique situations of each patient. He was kind but straight-forward, a no-nonsense former military man with a strong instinct for helping others who had been through trauma.

"May I join you?" Dr. Howell asked, and Jack nodded. The doctor pulled up a chair and took off his glasses, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

"What happened?" Jack demanded impatiently.

"I'm glad I came in today," Dr. Howell began. "If only to see first-hand the severity of what I'm dealing with."

"Which is what?"

"I understand that you took off Mr. Jones' restraints last night," the doctor replied. "This morning he tried to hang himself with one of them."

Jack felt the blood drain from his face, the bile rise in his throat. "No," he whispered. "No, he sounded better last night, he…" Jack trailed off. Ianto had not made any promises; in fact, he'd still despaired of living at the end of their conversation. It was Jack who had promised to help him. But how could he help someone who didn't want to be helped?

"Helen told me some of what he's been through recently," the doctor said, leaning back with his hands across his chest. "I've counseled more than one soldier who was part of the aftermath at Canary Wharf. If Mr. Jones was in the tower when it happened, he's likely severely traumatized."

"You don't know the half of it," Jack murmured. He needed to tell Howell the truth, so that he had all the information he needed to help Ianto. "Helen, if you'll excuse us? I need to share some of that classified information with Dr. Howell."

Helen nodded. "Of course. I'm not sure I want to know if it's that bad anyway."

"You probably don't," Jack replied. "Thank you. I'll check in before I leave."

She nodded and left them on their own. Dr. Howell leaned forward.

"She's not aware of what really happened at Canary Wharf, is she?" he asked. Jack shook his head.

"No, that didn't seem necessary. She knows these are not medical experiments gone wrong, but she's also accepted that details are not always available—or wanted."

Howell nodded. "Of course. Her job is hard enough without knowing the details. Sometimes I wonder myself how I get up in the morning." He leaned forward and pierced Jack with clear blue eyes. "So tell me what really happened to Mr. Jones."

"I'm not quite sure," Jack said. He ran a hand through his hair and shrugged helplessly when the doctor gave him a skeptical look. "No, really. I don't know what happened to him at Canary Wharf, but it must have been a nightmare. I only know what he went through afterward, and that's bad enough."

"All right, that's something. Tell me what you know."

Taking a deep breath, Jack began. He almost felt like he was the one on the proverbial couch being psychoanalyzed. "He came to Cardiff a few weeks after Canary Wharf looking for a job. I said no."

"Why?" asked Howell. Jack frowned.

"Why was he looking for a job, or why did I say no?"

"Both," replied the doctor. "Start with the first."

"I got the impression he didn't know what else to do, that Torchwood was the only life he knew and all he could think of coming back to after One fell. I said no because I didn't want anything to do with London."

"The London branch was gone," Howell pointed out. "Why turn away an experienced agent looking for a job?"

"Because I didn't want anyone from One working for me," Jack snapped. "They destroyed themselves! I broke from them long before it happened and didn't want that legacy anywhere near my base."

"I read his file, he was a junior researcher, probably a drone who had nothing to do with the Ghost Shifts. Why turn down the survivor of a tragedy he had little part in?"

"Is this about me or Ianto?" Jack exclaimed, standing up to pace. The doctor shrugged.

"Both, to be honest. This happened on your watch, Captain. I need to understand how in order to help Mr. Jones." He waited for Jack to answer.

"Fine. I was angry. I didn't want him, that's all there is to it. I didn't want anyone from One near us. I lost someone there too, not to mention the almost eight hundred people who didn't deserve to die."

"No, they didn't," Howell murmured. "So what changed your mind about Mr. Jones?"

Jack laughed bitterly as he sat down once more. "He stalked me. Looking back, I can see how he planned it all and practically conned me into giving him a job. What finally changed my mind was his determination, his quick thinking under pressure, and a damn fine suit."

"Ah," said the doctor, obviously holding back a knowing smile. "I see."

"No, it wasn't like that," Jack said, irritated. Of course it was, but he wasn't ever going to admit that to anyone, especially since those particular thoughts would never come to fruition now. "He found a pternandon that had slipped through the Rift and cornered it in an empty warehouse. We captured it together. He knew what he was doing, and he was good at it. Very professional. I realized I could use someone like that on my team, so when he offered to do whatever needed to be done, I took him up on it."

Jack imagined the doctor writing mental notes on the notepad in his head as he nodded. "Did he go through any screening, exams, anything?"

"Of course," Jack waved away the accusation that they'd been negligent with Ianto's health. "My team doctor gave him a thorough physical and noted several minor injuries that were still healing from Canary Wharf. Mentally, he passed the psych test, and when both Owen and I pressed him about returning to Torchwood so soon, he said he needed to move on. He said he had family in the area and was coping."

"And you believed him," Howell stated. Jack nodded.

"We did. His story checked out, and he seemed fine. He settled in quickly and worked hard. He…well, he did whatever we asked of him, even if it was demeaning, and took over all the little details the rest of us never bothered with. I put him in charge of the archives as he seemed familiar with it from his work in London."

"Did you check up on him?"

"Mandatory six-week review, yes," said Jack. "He had lost some weight, said he had trouble sleeping. Owen noted it, asked if he needed medication, and Ianto vehemently denied it. Said he needed his head on straight for the job, which I can certainly understand."

"So you let it go?" asked Howell. There was no judgment in his voice, but Jack felt it nonetheless.

"There was nothing for me to press!" Jack exclaimed. "He was doing an exemplary job, even if he was growing more and more invisible. He was quiet, didn't go out with the team much, but he was fine at the Hub—a strong worker, dedicated, meticulous, organized, with a wicked sense of humor when he chose to use it. We just assumed that was what he was always like, shy and introverted."

"When really he was struggling to care for his injured girlfriend in secret?" asked the doctor. Jack gaped at him. "That's what Helen said, but if it's classified, there must be more."

Jack shook his head and let his eyes slip closed. "It's horrific, Ben," he said quietly. "No one should go through what they did." The doctor leaned forward.

"Tell me, Jack. I can't help either of you if you don't tell me."

Jack's eyes flew open. "I don't need help!"

"Maybe not," the doctor said. "But whatever happened is clearly affecting you quite deeply. I haven't seen you this upset over any other patient who's been brought here."

"None of them worked for me!" Jack snapped.

"Exactly," said the doctor smoothly, leaning back. "This is personal. What happened with Ianto's girlfriend?"

"She was partially converted," Jack said, his voice catching. "He found her in the rubble, pulled her from the conversion table after it had all ended. Somehow he kept her alive, got her to Cardiff, and decided the Hub was the only place where he could try to heal her and reverse the conversion."

Benjamin Howell was normally an unflappable man, but his hand came to his mouth and he was speechless for several moments before taking off his glasses and rubbing at his eyes. "My god," he murmured. "What a nightmare."

Jack almost sobbed in agreement. "That's not the end of it, Ben. He set her up in the basement, kept her alive by converting the table to a life support unit. He didn't tell us, though, he hid her. For three months. He snuck her in, took care of her, and worked like a dog at his job, all on his own, all by himself. Until it fell apart."

"How did she die?" asked Howell.

"We killed her," Jack whispered. "He brought in a doctor from Japan who got her off the life support and breathing on her own, only she killed him, tried to convert him. I sent Ianto back in to execute her, but he couldn't do it, so we shot her." He let his head fall to his hands. "God, how could I do that to him?" And there it was, the gut wrenching guilt that he couldn't shake, that he had done such a thing to a coworker, to someone he considered a friend, someone he cared about.

"Maybe you were giving him one last chance to save her, on his own terms?" suggested the doctor. Jack glanced up sharply.

"I'm not that magnanimous," he snapped.

"So you were punishing him?" Howell asked.

"I don't know! I was furious at the time! She strapped one of my agents to the table and tried to convert her, tossed Ianto across the room, and attacked me. She murdered the doctor and a second civilian when she somehow managed to transplant her brain into another body."

The doctor blanched at that last. "Perhaps you were giving him the opportunity to right their wrongs?" the doctor suggested. "To redeem himself?"

Jack was surprised to find he was breathing heavily, his hands shaking. "Maybe, but I doubt it." He paused and looked away for a long moment. "I think…I think I was trying to hurt him," he confessed. "Like he hurt us."

"Like he hurt _you,_ " Dr. Howell corrected. "Yet now you're here every day, trying to help him."

"Yes, I am," Jack replied defensively. "And I'll do whatever it takes."

"Sounds familiar," the doctor pointed out. "He did everything he could to save her and failed. Now you're doing the same."

Jack sucked in a breath at the doctor's insight, but couldn't deny it. "I don't want to lose him, not after all he's been through."

"It's because of all he's been through that he doesn't want to live," Howell replied.

"Suicide is not the answer," Jack said wearily. "I know better than anyone, it doesn't solve anything. It only makes things worse."

The doctor raised his eyebrows, but otherwise did not react. "Speaking from experience, Captain?"

A withering glare earned Jack a benign smile. The doctor replaced his glasses. "I know your secret, Jack. You let me in on that a long time ago. Have you told your team, yet?"

"No," he said. "One of them knows because she saw it happen, but that's it. When did this become about me?"

"It's always about you, Jack, in some way or another," murmured the doctor, albeit with a twinkle in his eye. Jack snorted.

"I'm not sure whether that's an insult or a compliment."

"It's simply pointing out that you are a complicated man with a large sphere of influence. But you're right, it's not about you, not completely. Tell me more about Ianto's girlfriend."

Jack threw up his hands. "I don't know anything! When he started, he said she was dead, that was it. Her name was Lisa and they were dating, I don't even know how long. He loved her, that much was clear, and he sacrificed a hell of a lot to try to save her. But he never said anything else, never asked for help, nothing…not until the end."

"And then what? What happened when she first attacked your team?"

"He asked us to try and help her, but she was too far gone." Jack shook his head in despair. "I've never seen anything like it. They'd welded the exoskeleton directly to her body. Owen, our doctor, said they'd fused it to her skin and screwed it into her bones. There's nothing on this planet or any other that can reverse that kind of damage, and that doesn't include the cybercomponents rewiring her brain."

The doctor was staring at the table, shaking his head in wonder. "I can't imagine the pain she was in," he said. "And for him to be witness to it all, to spend so much time trying to save her, all on his own."

"Only to lose her," Jack finished bitterly. "To a co-worker's bullet."

Howell nodded. "You did what you had to do, Jack. Second guessing won't bring her back. She was dead from the moment they touched her at Canary Wharf."

Jack swallowed thickly; it was as if the doctor was reading his mind at times, and he half wondered if he'd need his own session on the therapist's couch. His first priority, however, was Ianto. "What can we do for Ianto?"

The doctor leaned back and chewed on his thumb. "From what I can gather, he's clearly feeling guilty, for putting her through so much and for failing to save her in the end. And he probably feels both guilty and ashamed for what he had to do to save her—sneaking her into your base, keeping her secret, betraying your team."

"Why didn't he tell us?" Jack murmured, once again wondering why Ianto hadn't trusted them to try and help. Then again, what reasons had they given him to trust them? They'd treated him like nothing more than a butler, and he'd let them.

"He was probably terrified of what you'd do—what you _did_ do," the doctor said. "Because perhaps, at some level, he knew there was nothing that could save her but death. Now, he's suffered a tremendous loss, not just of her personally, but of everyone he knew at Torchwood One as well, and I imagine he's had no support all this time."

Somehow it hadn't even occurred to Jack that Ianto must have had friends and coworkers he'd cared about in London, most of whom were likely dead. It was as if because of his own dislike of One, he'd simply assumed Ianto had felt the same. It was with great reluctance that Jack realized Ianto had probably had a good life in London, a life that had been ripped apart and destroyed almost instantly. He vowed to learn more about Ianto and his time at Torchwood One, regardless of his own feelings about the London branch and Yvonne Hartman.

"He's also lost the routine he's been following, all the things he did to keep her safe and alive," the doctor continued when Jack nodded at him to go on. "There's a gaping hole in his life he doesn't know how to fill, and it's going to be overwhelming. And I'd wager that he's been repressing his own traumatic experience at Canary Wharf, whatever part he played in the battle. It's likely to come roaring back now that this is all over—flashbacks, survivor's guilt, anger, even paranoia."

"What can we possibly do?" asked Jack, wide-eyed with despair. Put like that, the situation seemed hopeless. How could anyone recover from such trauma?

"Mr. Jones needs time to grieve, first of all. He needs to understand the nature of his girlfriend's death at the hands of the Cybermen and accept that it wasn't his fault, and it will be difficult. Though I imagine your team is angry and upset about his betrayal in hiding her for so long, he probably feels the same about them, as well as guilty and ashamed. He'll need to make his peace with them somehow in order to move on. And we'll have to work on processing his own experience during the battle."

"Oh, so easy job, then," Jack joked, and they shared a brief smile. Jack sighed. "What can I do?"

The doctor leaned back and seemed to study him. "Are you close?"

"With Ianto?" Jack asked in surprise. "I don't know."

"What is your relationship like?" asked the doctor.

"Normal?" Jack suggested. "We work together, talk, joke around, flirt a bit."

"You're talking in the present tense," Howell pointed out. "Does that mean you want him back at Torchwood?"

"I do," Jack answered immediately. "He's good. No, he's brilliant. The things he had to do to keep her alive, to keep her secret, show he has incredible potential for the work we do. And he's done it all on top of the amazing work he does around the Hub and in the archives. We need someone like him."

"And you want to save him," the doctor added quietly.

"Yes," Jack snapped. "What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," Dr. Howell replied, holding up his hands. "But you need to realize that while we might be able to help Mr. Jones regain his sense of dignity and purpose, there may not be a future for him at Torchwood. Torchwood's broken him, Captain. Why would he go back?"

Jack stared at him, trying to process the thought of Ianto not returning to Torchwood. After all the Welshman had seen and done, could he really return to civilian life and be happy? Or was that exactly what he needed, another chance to live a normal life, free of aliens and Weevils and rifts in time? Though it had only been three months since he'd joined them, Jack honestly couldn't picture the Hub without Ianto Jones.

"What's the plan?" asked Jack, ignoring the doctor's question. Last night Jack had offered Ianto the chance to return, and he would do so again, no matter what the doctor suggested. Howell nodded in understanding, patted his knees, and stood up. Jack followed.

"I have several different therapies I'll use with him depending on his level of post-traumatic stress, and I suspect he'll need medication to start, particularly to help him sleep," the doctor replied. "I think what will help most right now is giving him a sense of control. He has none, not here, especially in restraints. He probably feels like the last three months have been out of his control, and his actions this morning were a clear sign of him wanting to be in control of his own life again."

"But how can we trust him not to try hurting himself?" asked Jack.

"We give him the opportunity, but watch him," the doctor replied. "I'd suggest a camera in his room and round the clock monitoring to prevent any further attempts."

"He'll figure it out," Jack replied.

"And he'll probably test it," the doctor said. "Control. Once he feels he has control, we can begin exchanging trust. And from there we build him back up to the man he was."

Jack sighed. It sounded impossible. "What can I do?" he asked. "I thought we had a connection when we talked last night, but apparently I was wrong."

The doctor paused and once again appeared to study Jack. "It seems to me that you and Mr. Jones are closer than you think. Helen said when he came in he was very angry at you, but that he responded well yesterday. You may have killed his girlfriend, but in a way, you also saved her. It's possible he may come to understand that, and maybe sooner than you think."

"I doubt it," Jack said, skeptical. He'd assumed that he would carry Ianto's enmity with him forever; it would be his burden to bear, for his part in the tragedy that had played out on his watch.

"You're in a unique position to understand and support him right now, Jack," said Howell. "You're probably the only person who has seen and done anything that even compares to what he experienced at Torchwood One. I can be his doctor, but he may need something even more important—a friend."

Jack nodded. "Can I see him now?"

"Of course. I'm sure he doesn't want to see me again so soon. He was not particularly cooperative this morning, but we'll get there." The doctor motioned toward the door. "The last thing he needs right now is judgment. Don't get angry, don't act disappointed, don't make him feel guilty for what he's done. He's beating himself up enough. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Jack said. "Been there, done that."

"All right, tell him I'll be around later this afternoon then. I'm going to go speak with Elise for a while, maybe work on her artwork before seeing Samuel. I'll see Ianto in a few hours."

Jack nodded and left Dr. Howell to see to the young brother and sister who had come to Flat Holm several months earlier. He finished his cup of coffee and went down to Ianto's room to speak to the Welshman, unsure what sort of reception he would find, but determined to do his best.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't often write original characters into my Torchwood stories, but sometimes I really enjoy it and click with them. Benjamin Howell is one of those characters. I hope you enjoyed his strength and insight as well. The next chapter changes the established pattern as it's in Ianto's point of view at Flat Holm. I hope it's not jarring, but felt it was necessary to get some glimpse into his mind there in order to better understand his healing process. Thank you for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

Six

Ianto hated the restraints. He'd rubbed his wrists raw when he'd first arrived at the hell hole that was Flat Holm, which only made it worse when they'd slapped them back on that morning. Jack had released him last night, Ianto had panicked and fucked up, and now he was strapped down again, this time for his own safety.

It burned inside him, that he had such little control over his life. That he didn't even have the power to end it when he hated everything about it at that moment. In spite of what Jack had said the night before, Ianto knew that nothing mattered anymore, especially him. Why Jack was doing any of this was a mystery.

And now Jack would probably be even more furious at Ianto's pathetic attempt to do what Jack refused to do himself. He'd never be allowed up again, never be allowed out. Not that he cared. He was done. Done with caring, with living, with dying. He'd continue as he was until his lack of effort ended his miserable existence.

The door opened then, and Ianto slammed his eyes shut, hoping whomever it was would think he was asleep and leave him alone. He didn't want to see anyone, and he especially didn't want anyone to see him, trussed up like prisoner. In a way he was, and he hated the guards and the nurses and that bloody psychiatrist who sounded like he was reading a goddamn medical script—

"Ianto?" asked a quiet voice nearby. Shit. It was Jack, the last person on the long list of people he didn't want to see. Jack, who would be angry and disappointed after their talk last night. He'd vowed to come back, day after day, and here he was, back again and witnessing Ianto at yet another new low. Christ, why couldn't the man have shot Ianto like he'd threatened? Or Retcon? It was all ready, a brand new identity set up and sitting unused on a flash drive in a desk drawer. Jack could have checked it over to make sure it was useable, and by this time Ianto could have been an accountant somewhere in North Wales, all the pain and misery of the last three months locked away in his mind.

Only pain and misery was all he had now, and Ianto wasn't sure he wanted to give it up. He had no more close friends to speak of, no family to turn to, no coworkers to talk with, and Lisa…Lisa was gone forever. All he had was his pain and misery. And apparently Jack Harkness.

A tear leaked out and betrayed him, his anger and frustration so strong he couldn't hold it in no matter how hard he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Ianto? Are you awake?" Jack was close now, Ianto could sense him. He heard a chair being pulled over, guessed that Jack had sat down. A hand touched his, and Ianto jumped, startled by the gentle touch. "I know you can hear me. Are you all right? Are you in pain?"

Ianto turned his head toward Jack and opened his eyes, hiding nothing because what did he have to hide anymore? Jack's face betrayed his surprise; whether it was for the despair written on Ianto's face or the bruises circling his neck, he didn't know. Maybe both. He was probably the perfect picture of agony and despair, because that was exactly how he felt.

Jack's hand moved toward his neck, and Ianto pulled away. He did not speak. Jack bowed his head and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," Jack murmured, surprising Ianto with his words.

"What for?" Ianto replied dully. "That I'm still alive? I'm the one who should be apologizing for that particular mistake of genetics—"

A hand squeezed his, stopping his words. Ianto glanced down in surprise before meeting Jack's gaze.

"Never apologize for living," Jack said. "I'm sorry it's so hard for you right now, that when I left last night you still felt like you needed to do this." He shook his head. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner, like I didn't see Lisa sooner. I'm sorry any of this happened."

"Stop it," Ianto snapped, shaking his hand free since he couldn't snatch it away. "None of it's your fault, it's me. All mine. My mistakes, my failures. Don't take them away from me, it's all I have!"

Jack's lips quirked up. "Interesting way to look at things."

"It's called taking responsibility, Jack," Ianto replied, tired once again. "I did this to myself. Why can't you let me solve it by myself?"

"Because I think your answer is wrong," Jack said calmly.

"It's not up to you to decide!" Ianto snapped. "It's my life."

"So please don't waste it," Jack replied, still surprisingly calm. A part of Ianto wanted the other man to be angry, though at the same time he never wanted to see Jack so furious with him again. He had held a gun to Ianto's head three times the night Lisa had died, and it had only been the thought of saving Lisa that had kept Ianto from crumbling beneath the captain's onslaught of anger. With Lisa gone, Ianto knew he would never survive such a thing; he'd go mad for certain.

"It's already a waste," Ianto replied, letting his head fall back as he gazed at the ceiling. "It was all for nothing, everything I've done with it—from moving to London, to joining Torchwood, to coming back to Cardiff—nothing."

"Tell me about London," said Jack, sitting back and crossing his legs at the ankles, as if he were going to stay for a while. Ianto glared at him. Canary Wharf was the last thing he wanted to talk about, and Jack sat up quickly, as if he'd realized his mistake.

"Not that day," Jack said, sounding genuinely apologetic. "We don't have to talk about that day. Tell me about the good things. What did you do in London?"

"You saw my file, back when you told me to stop asking for a job," Ianto said quietly.

"Junior level researcher," Jack nodded. "Right. And I was once Yvonne's personal secretary."

"No, but I was," Ianto replied, smirking at the look of surprise on Jack's face.

"Wow. I didn't think you were necessarily a junior level researcher, not after seeing what you could really do, but I didn't see that coming," Jack murmured. "You changed your file."

"Obviously," Ianto replied. "Everyone knew you didn't get on. I figured it would be hard enough getting hired as a former employee of London. You'd have run me over for sure if my file had said I was Hartman's personal assistant."

"Probably," Jack agreed. Ianto felt a twinge of anger, tempered with sadness. It hadn't been a bad job, not always.

"It wasn't for long," Ianto replied, feeling as if he had been tainted by being associated with Yvonne Hartman. Which, in a way he was, and he could understand why. "I started in the archives, was her PA for about nine months, then moved into research not long before…well."

"I didn't think you learned those computer skills making coffee," Jack mused. Ianto shrugged.

"Where do you think I learned my coffee making skills?" Ianto asked, waiting for the reaction.

Jack's eyebrows shot up with a snort. "She couldn't boil water if she tried. She had people do everything for her, even—"

"She wasn't a complete monster," Ianto sighed. "But you're right, she couldn't make coffee worth a damn. I learned that from my mum."

Jack nodded. "Did you like working for Torchwood One?" he asked. Ianto gave him a withering look.

"That's a loaded question," he pointed out. "How am I supposed to answer that without damning myself in some way?"

"Honestly," Jack said. "I just want honesty."

"Because you offer it so freely," Ianto observed. "Sorry, Jack, but I see no reason to be honest with someone who spends so much time lying to his team."

The shark like grin that both fascinated and terrified Ianto appeared. "Who says I'm lying?"

Ianto let his eyes slip closed and laughed through his nose. "I know you're different, sir, but the stories you tell—"

"—are usually true," Jack replied. He sat back, arms crossed over his chest again. "I don't lie as much as you think I do, I simply don't tell you everything. I like to keep my secrets close."

Ianto took a risk. "How close?"

Jack seemed to study him before replying. "Right now, not as close as I normally would." Ianto immediately understood the implication of Jack's answer, and struggled into a sitting position; to his relief, Jack did not try to help him.

"Are you a time-traveler, then?" he asked point-blank. "And did you travel with the Doctor?"

"Yes," said Jack, holding his gaze. "And yes."

Ianto blew out a long breath. So that at least was true. It had been the rumor at Torchwood One for years, but Jack's file had revealed very little, and meeting the man had revealed even less. Yet now it explained so much, and Ianto wondered what else he'd be able to pull out of Jack; he only worried about the price it would cost him.

"I liked Torchwood One," Ianto said softly. "I enjoyed what I did there. I liked the archives, I liked the research department, and I liked most of the people. It was hard being Yvonne's PA, at times. She was even more demanding than you when it came to coffee."

Jack laughed, and Ianto cracked a smile that immediately sobered as he thought about his years in London. "We did some amazing things, Jack. Most of the people there had good intentions. They didn't want to kill aliens and develop weapons. We wanted to study other races and understand the universe, create new technology that would help the human race."

"The road to hell and all that," Jack said softly, his eyes distant.

Ianto shook his head. "You don't understand. You've been underground with Torchwood Three for too long, hiding in the shadows, keeping secrets that half of Cardiff already suspects. Torchwood is meant to protect the planet, to help people—"

"Which is exactly what we do in Cardiff," Jack pointed out.

"And so did we, even if you disagreed with the method."

"Torchwood One meant to capture the Doctor," Jack said, an almost random non sequitur until Ianto remembered that Jack had admitted to traveling with the enigmatic alien. "It's in the original charter, you know. Yvonne was almost obsessed with it."

Ianto nodded, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. "So why are you here, then? If you were a Companion, why work for the very organization tasked with detaining him?"

Jack was silent, as if allowing Ianto to figure it out.

" _You_ want to capture him, too?" Ianto asked incredulously. "Then why not work in London, he's there practically every Christmas."

Jack chuckled, but shook his head. "I don't want to capture him. I want to talk to him. He's not the enemy London thought he was."

"He stopped the Daleks and Cybermen at Canary Wharf," Ianto said softly, remembering that dark time, the confusion of battle and his struggle to help Lisa afterward. He'd only found out how it had ended when he'd been questioned and released by UNIT.

"He's not the enemy _Hartman_ thought he was," Jack repeated.

"Which was why you didn't work for London," Ianto guessed. "Plus Canary Wharf was such a pisspot compared to a damp hole in the ground with bad heating in Cardiff."

This time Jack laughed out loud. "Exactly. Especially when someone like Yvonne Hartmann is running the show."

Ianto sighed. "She wasn't always so ambitious, yet so oblivious to the danger. She was the one who helped Lisa and I get together, and I could never hate her for that. Yet she drove Torchwood London into the ground at the end," he said softly. "There were many of us…deep down, we thought the Ghost Shifts couldn't possibly be good, but there was nothing we could do. We didn't know any better than the team actually studying them. I was in a completely different branch of research, working on advanced computing." He sagged against the bed, the guilt for so many dead while he survived overwhelming as he remembered his teammates, coworkers, and friends.

"It's not your fault," Jack said, his chair scraping closer. "Listen to me, Ianto. You are not responsible for the Ghost Shifts or the Dalek sphere, for anything that happened that day."

"I was responsible for Lisa," Ianto whispered, his eyes slipping closed. "And I failed her." He felt Jack's hand on his once more.

"You did everything you could," Jack said, his voice also quiet. "You didn't fail because there was never anything you could have done to save her."

Ianto wanted to yell at Jack, shout at him that he was wrong, but after several days of forced solitude, Ianto knew deep down that Jack was right: Lisa had been doomed from the moment she'd been captured. Yet it was still his fault, everything that had happened after. No matter what Jack said, Ianto _had_ failed in the end. He had conned Jack, who Ianto had believed and still did believe was a good man, and he had betrayed the others on his team, equally good if sometimes slightly annoying coworkers. And because of him, two innocent people were dead, because he hadn't got Lisa out quick enough, hadn't been able to reverse the conversion process, hadn't been able to stop her from rampaging through the Hub, making plans for the upgrade of the human race…

Images flashed through his mind, of Lisa in the conversion unit at Canary Wharf, screaming for help; of the blood and gore he'd dragged her through to get her out alive; of all the people he'd tricked and stolen from and hurt to get her to Cardiff; of her pain and suffering in the basement of the cold, dark Hub; of Gwen in the machine, of Jack with his gun, of Annie the pizza girl with Lisa's words—

His chest felt like it was being crushed, his hands were numb. Spots danced in front of his eyes as he gasped for air, and still the images continued, an assault of blood and screams and guilt and blame, crashing against him, beating him down. He broke before it, his mind lost in a sea of pain and loss. He barely registered the restraints on his wrists being released, hands on his shoulder pulling him into a tight embrace. It was so hard to breathe and everything hurt so badly in that moment, he couldn't resist, even knowing who it was.

"Breathe," murmured Jack, his hands running up and down Ianto's back. Ianto shook his head, gasping for air; what kind of advice was that? If he could breathe, he damn well would breathe, but his lungs were being squeezed by an iron vice in his chest, his heart beating wildly in response to the lack of oxygen. Two hands came up to his shoulders, blue eyes stared into his own.

"Breathe through your nose, like this," Jack said, and showed him. He continued to murmur calm words, his thumb brushing gently over Ianto's neck. How long it took for him to regain control, Ianto wasn't sure, but all of a sudden he was highly aware of how close his boss was, sitting on the bed with his warm hands on Ianto's shoulders. The moment that he thought that it felt all right, even good, was the moment he also realized how wrong it was, and he pulled back, nodding that he was better.

"Sorry," he muttered under his breath as embarrassment began to overrun panic. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," said Jack, hesitating before moving away, off the bed. "You've been through so much these last few months that I'm surprised you haven't had more of those."

"Panic attacks?" Ianto asked, then snorted inelegantly. "Who says I haven't?"

"Have you?" Jack countered.

"Yes," Ianto replied quietly, and did not offer more. It had happened that morning, as he'd been lying in bed, thinking about what Jack had said the night before, and how hard it would be to go back; it had been simpler to try and end it instead, rather than work through his grief and guilt, face Jack and the others. He paused and took a deep breath, relieved to feel his chest remain open. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," said Jack. "It's probably my fault anyway, talking about London like that. I only wanted to know something about you, and your time there."

"And you didn't even ask me the hard questions, just whether or not I liked working there," Ianto replied dryly.

"At least I didn't ask whether you liked Yvonne."

Ianto snorted, the humor a welcome relief. "She was…difficult at best, despotic at worst."

"So I'm a much better boss, then?" Jack offered, and Ianto shook his head with a sad smile.

"I'll let you know when I figure it out," he said, though he'd realized early on that Jack knew exactly what he was doing at Torchwood Three, even if he went about it in eccentric, inexplicable, and sometimes off-putting ways. "Thank you, sir, for your help."

Jack sobered immediately, his face almost sad. "I haven't done anything, Ianto. But I want to, if you'll let me."

"I'm not sure what you do can do," Ianto replied. "This is my battle to fight—to win or to lose."

"You're going to win, because you're not alone," Jack said, his voice earnest and strong. Ianto was once again struck by how sincere Jack was, when only days before he had threatened to kill Ianto several times. Ianto, in turn, had threatened to watch Jack suffer and die, and yet was now sitting and talking to him, quite calmly, and believed him. It didn't make sense…and yet, neither had much of Ianto's life for the last several years. "You may not think I understand, but I do."

"Because you're a time traveler," Ianto replied dryly.

"I've seen and done more than you can possibly imagine," Jack said quietly. Ianto heard the deep sadness in his voice that spoke of pain and loss. "I've been through wars and seen what it does to people, what it did to me. Canary Wharf was a battle like no other this planet has seen. So yes, in my own way I understand, and I want to help."

Although Ianto wanted to ask why, he also didn't want to know the answer. "Will you share?" he asked instead. "The things you've seen and done, that you keep so secret? And how you…how you survive them?" For some reason, Ianto wanted to know, perhaps because he sensed that Jack might be the only person who would in turn might understand some of the things Ianto had seen and done and kept so secret.

"Not the bad things," Jack replied with what Ianto thought was a nervous laugh. "But other things…yes. Under the highest security clearance, of course," he added glibly, before turning serious again. "And only if you share too. Talk to me."

Ianto hesitated only briefly. That was the price to pay, but perhaps he could afford it; what else did he have to lose? He didn't have anyone else to talk to, unless he wanted to spill his guts to the doctor. "All right," he said, and mirrored Jack's words. "Under the highest security clearance, of course. Is that really why you keep so many secrets? For security reasons?"

To his surprise, Jack nodded quite seriously, without any hint of flippancy. "I like my privacy, but yes, security is also part of it. I've from another time, another place, so I have to protect the timeline."

"Because you've seen and done so much," Ianto murmured, more surprised that Jack was admitting something concrete, instead of being surprised to find out his boss was actually from another time. They'd all wondered, after all, and it made so much sense that it must be true.

Jack nodded and glanced at the ground. "I'm sorry for what happened to you and my part in it, Ianto, but I'm not always a monster…only when I have to be, and believe me, I hate it every time. I hope you know that what happened to Lisa was one of those times. I had no choice, but I will always be sorry for how I treated _you_ that night."

Ianto believed him. He didn't want to, but he sensed, deep down, that Jack was sincere in his apology. In his brief time at Torchwood Three, he'd seen Jack make enough hard decisions to know that the man was not a monster, but a reluctant leader forced to make difficult choices that often hurt good people. Now at least he had some idea of why. And he suspected that Jack's regret for his actions toward Ianto the night Lisa had died were almost as great as Ianto's guilt for betraying him so badly.

He idly wondered if things might have been different between them, if they could have been friends, or even more. Jack had flirted with him quite a bit during his months at Torchwood Three, and Ianto had enjoyed returning it. At times he'd been sorely tempted to push Jack into acting on it, longing for some sort of release due to his own lack of sexual activity and the undeniable attraction he'd felt for Jack from the moment they'd caught Myfanwy. It was strange to think that the woman who'd held his love and loyalty through the temptation was gone now, and that he was free to act on his attractions and impulses. Yet even if he wanted to, some day in the future, he knew it would never come to that with Jack. Their relationship was irreversibly damaged, and suddenly that loss felt as painful as all of the others he'd suffered.

"Ianto?" Jack asked quietly, pulling him out of his thoughts. He ran his hands across his face, wiping away another stray tear.

"I'm sorry too," he replied, unable to look at Jack. "For what happened. For…for not telling you, for hiding from you, for punching you…" He trailed off and shared a small smile with Jack, whose lip had finally started to heal several days later, then took a deep breath and continued. "I'm not sorry that I tried to save her. I regret prolonging her misery, but I had to try, Jack. I couldn't give up on her."

"I know you couldn't," Jack said. "You are…a lesser man would have left her behind, but you didn't."

"A better man would have ended it," Ianto whispered. "But I couldn't do that either, not without trying."

Jack was quiet for a moment. "Tell me about her sometime?" he asked casually. Ianto nodded.

"I could prattle on for hours, sir," he said. For the first time, thinking of Lisa didn't bring only painful memories, but also good ones, happy ones. Maybe sharing those would hurt, but maybe it would help him remember her as she was, and not what she'd been at the end.

"Then it's a date," said Jack, then chuckled at Ianto's wide-eyed look of surprise. "In the proverbial sense. Maybe I'll bring some beer and pizza—"

"No," said Ianto, his heart jumping. "Not pizza."

"Fish and chips, then," Jack corrected without missing a beat. "And we can talk some more."

Ianto raised an eyebrow at him. "That means you're leaving now, doesn't it?"

Jack sighed. "I should, yes," he replied. "I have this thing called a job, with these people who for some reason think I'm the boss, so I should probably get back to bossing them around."

Ianto shook his head at Jack's humor. Then he stopped and frowned. "What did you tell them? About me?"

Jack fidgeted before leaning forward on his elbows. "I told them you were with your sister. They don't know about this place, Ianto, and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Seeing as I'm locked up here, I certainly won't be spilling the beans, so to speak," Ianto replied dryly.

"You're not locked up here," Jack said, shaking his head. "I know it feels like it, especially when you're…you know." He made a motion toward the loose restraints and continued. "But if you truly wanted to leave, I would let you."

"Really?" Ianto asked skeptically. Jack seemed uncertain and offered a sheepish smile.

"Okay, maybe not. I'd rather you stay, at least until you honestly feel up to leaving."

Ianto considered Jack's words. Did he want to leave? Yes, he hated being confined, but at the same time, he knew after what had happened earlier that he couldn't be trusted not to hurt himself. At that moment he felt like he could survive the heartbreak, but he also knew that the next day could change everything, and he might very well try to end it again. He'd seen it with family members and friends working through mental issues, the constant changes in mood. A panic attack or fit of depression could hit out of the blue and destroy any progress he'd made, as it had only hours earlier. To be honest, he felt strangely safe on the island and knew they were trying to help. Maybe he should let them.

"I think I'll stay," he said. "Though I'd really like some of my things."

Jack sat up straight immediately. "Absolutely. Make a list, and I'll stop by your flat to get whatever you want."

Ianto rattled off a few items, then ran a free hand over his scraggly face. "Shaving kit?"

Jack's face fell. "Oh, Ianto…"

"It's fine," Ianto said, waving him off. "I understand, I do. I…I'm not sure I'd trust myself, after what happened this morning."

Jack was quiet for a moment. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked. Ianto was yet again surprised at the gentleness in the man's normally gruff voice.

"Nope," he said. "Been there, done that, didn't work. Bloody stupid idea." He paused. "Right now I have no desire to try it again, but I can't say that I won't tomorrow or the next day."

"I think that's normal," Jack offered. "You can't turn off something like this in one day."

"It's hard," Ianto admitted. "Knowing that I might feel like that again, that it might work next time. It's frightening because I know how possible it is now."

Jack studied him for a moment. "Call me. Anytime you need to, call me if you get to that point again."

Ianto glanced around the room. "With what phone then?"

"I'll bring your mobile," Jack replied, then moved closer. "Just call me, all right? I don't sleep much and unless I'm chasing down a Weevil, I'll answer and talk you through."

Ianto narrowed his eyes. "This is starting to sound like a twelve-step program."

"Maybe," Jack laughed. "Torchwood could probably use something like that."

"I'll add it to the manual," Ianto said, and they laughed together. It was not a full, hearty laugh, but it was not tentative or forced either. Almost moving toward comfortable.

"Look, I really should get back to the Hub and make sure the world hasn't ended on Owen's watch," Jack said, standing up. "I'll bring some of your things tonight, all right?"

"Thank you," said Ianto.

"And if I brought butter chicken and basmati rice, would you eat it?"

Ianto glanced up, once again surprised. That was his regular dish when they ordered take away from the local Indian place, the one he enjoyed the most. He was shocked that Jack had not only noticed, but remembered and offered.

He swallowed the tightness in his throat. "I suppose if there was lots of naan I could be persuaded."

Jack grinned, his smile lighting up the room. "Then I will order extra for both of us!"

"Thank you."

At the door, Jack turned, looking serious. "Ianto, about this morning…I've undone the restraints and I'd rather not put them back on, but…" He trailed off, obviously feeling awkward.

"I'll be all right until dinner," Ianto replied, and he actually meant it.

"Are you sure?" Jack asked. Ianto raised an eyebrow.

"I'm guessing you'll have someone watching, right? Live video feed?"

Jack nodded without apology. "Not yet, no, but that was the plan."

"I understand," Ianto murmured with a sigh. No privacy then, but it would be better than being tied to his bed all the time. "I'll be fine for now."

"I thought the same thing when I left last night," Jack said. "I don't want to keep making the same mistake over and over."

Ianto shook his head, exasperated. "I feel okay right now. I won't…I won't do anything."

"Promise?" Jack asked, his voice actually sounding shaky and worried.

"I'm sorry, but I can't promise anything," Ianto replied, surprised at his honesty. Jack started to come back into the room. "But I can tell you that I'd really like my stuff and some butter chicken with naan, so I will be here."

Jack looked relieved. "Good. Dr. Howell is going to come by again, maybe you could talk with him too?"

"Jack," Ianto started, hearing the whine in his voice. Jack stopped him.

"Please. He's a good man who's helped a lot of people here. And he knows Canary Wharf as well. Give him a chance. And if not, mess with him some. I suspect you'd be brilliant at throwing it back at him, and he could probably use the challenge."

Ianto grinned crookedly. "That's not a half bad idea," he said, and Jack groaned.

"I shouldn't have suggested it then!" He laughed and turned to leave once more. "Give me a few hours."

"Jack?" Ianto asked before he left.

"Yeah?"

"Can I leave the room?" he asked quietly. "I mean, can someone show me around? I've been in here for days now."

"Of course," Jack said immediately. "I'll have Thomas show you around this afternoon. I don't think you managed to hit him." Ianto felt his cheeks flush, but Jack waved it away. "I'm teasing. But he is large man who will be carrying a big needle, so don't try anything."

Ianto sighed. Trust would be difficult, to earn and to give. He squashed any doubts, that it was an impossible task. Something deep down told him it wasn't, that trust was something he and Jack could build once more. He didn't know why he thought that or why he actually believed it, but he did. Maybe it had something to do with their shared experiences. Ianto sensed that Jack too had suffered, and if Jack could survive, so could he.

"I won't," he said. "I promise."

Jack looked surprised. "I thought you couldn't make promises right now."

"I'm not going to hurt anyone else," Ianto replied. "I've already done enough damage, here and elsewhere."

Jack studied him before nodding. "Thank you," he said. "I'll see you later tonight."

Without another word he turned and left. Ianto was surprised to realize that he was all right with much of what Jack had said, and that he was actually looking forward to seeing Jack later that night. He'd have some of his own belongings and could maybe settle down for the hard work of getting through the mess that was his life.

The funny thing was, he actually thought he could, if Jack was there.

"Thank you," he murmured to the empty room. He laid down on the bed with a small smile on his face. For the first time in days, fell asleep immediately and dreamed of the good times with Lisa, and not the horrors of Torchwood.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm strangely nervous about this chapter, so I don't have much to say. Final update on Thursday will hopefully wrap up any loose ends. Thank you so much for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

Seven

"So it was really was Jack," Gwen murmured. "When he could have fired you, arrested you, Retconned you..."

"He saved me," said Ianto, his voice thick. "He went out there every day, and I'm not sure I'll ever really understand why. Because you're right about every one of those things, yet all he did was slip an ambiguous disciplinary note into my file and suspend me for a month."

Gwen opened her mouth to say something, stopped, then tried again, obviously curious yet uncomfortable. "Was that when you and him…when you first became, well, involved?"

Ianto held back a sigh, because it was a perfectly logical question to ask, and he couldn't fault her for it. She probably wanted to ask even more, given that he and Jack kept their relationship extremely private at work—except when Gwen had walked in on them, of course. Yet many of those questions were not ones he was willing to answer, because sometimes he couldn't answer them for himself.

"No, that didn't happen until well after I returned to work," Ianto said, and she looked surprised. When Jack had kissed after resurrecting from Abaddon, they'd obviously figured something was between them; once Jack had left, they'd naturally asked him about it, but he'd hadn't said anything, because Jack was gone and it was none of the team's business what they'd been up to before he'd left.

"Oh. Was Flat Holm a part of it, though?" she asked. He wasn't sure what she meant, and she clarified. "Is that when things changed between you? Because sometimes I think of everything you both said and did that night and…" She trailed off, aware that she'd said too much, even though it was something Ianto thought about himself, quite frequently. That two people who had hurt one another so badly, who had threatened each other with nothing short of death, should end up sleeping together was perhaps not unheard of, given the proverbial thin line between love and hate; that they had starting dating and even developed a closer relationship was sometimes still a mystery.

"We struggled with it," Ianto replied. "We still do, in some ways. But I learned what kind of man he really is during that month at Flat Holm, and how wrong I was to condemn him that night. So I suppose you could say that yes, in some ways, that's when things started to change."

"We don't give him enough credit, do we?" she asked after a long pause, her voice very quiet.

"At times, yes. But I hope you'll give him more now."

She glanced at him in surprise. "Is that why you told me all this?" she asked, sounding stunned.

"Of course," he replied. "You're the one who questions him, doubts him, challenges him the most." He held up his hand when she started to protest. "And sometimes that is a good thing. We need to make sure we're doing the right thing for the right reasons, that we've examined all our options and made the best decision. But what you need to understand is that Jack is _always_ trying to do the right thing, and that he has far more experience making some of these really difficult decisions than you do. You need to have more faith in him, Gwen. You need to trust him. He's not trying to hurt people, because he would never do that, not on purpose."

She sighed and leaned against his shoulder. "I know. Or rather, I tell myself I know, but sometimes my own sense of right and wrong gets in the way of believing it. It's hard to understand why those people on the island have to stay there, why their families can't see them. But after seeing what Jonah goes through, what his mum went through, I'm starting to understand that even something so simple as a mother being with her son isn't as black and white as it should be."

"Nothing ever is, not in Torchwood," Ianto told her. "It's hard, but you won't survive if you can't live in the grey. Sometimes you have to accept the loss and sacrifice, otherwise you'll burn yourself out, Gwen."

"I know," she whispered, closing her eyes.

Ianto did not say anything else, feeling that his point was made, his mission accomplished. She'd need reminders, no doubt, but he hoped that she would take to heart what he had said. Pulling her close, he offered his silent support once more. For someone with Gwen's fiery spirit, living in the grey would be difficult. He had grown up understanding that sometimes things weren't always what they seemed, that not everyone was good, that bad things happened for no reason. He'd honed his cynicism at university and sharpened it to a point at Torchwood One, where they'd had to do difficult things for the right reasons.

It was yet another reason why he'd tried so hard to save Lisa: to take away something good from Torchwood One's fatal mistake. Perhaps it was why Jack had worked so hard to bring him back from the edge. And it was also why Ianto understood, probably better than any of them other than Jack, why sometimes sacrifices were necessary, even when they hurt. Gwen had been fighting that lesson since the beginning, and now perhaps she understood. He hoped so, as he didn't want to see her constantly fighting and continually losing the battle, as she inevitably would. And more than anything, he needed her to believe in Jack like he did. Because Jack needed her faith, not her constant doubt. He needed to be her hero, not her monster.

Ianto had learned during his time at Flat Holm that Jack was anything but a monster. Jack had come to the island every day and put Ianto back together again. Dr. Howell had helped, and Helen, and even some of the other residents, like Sam and Elise, but it had been Jack more than anything who had been there for Ianto. Who had listened, who had shared, who had laughed and even cried with him. Ianto began to heal, and while doing so, something between them changed at Flat Holm. It wasn't their sexual relationship, as Gwen had asked, but something more. A deeper understanding, and the beginning of a true friendship.

What had been hard was negotiating their new dynamic off the island, away from the small bubble where they could be open and honest. Back in the real world, masks slipped quickly into place without even thinking. Jack had still tried to support him, but he'd seemed equally as unsure of their relationship off the island as Ianto had felt from the moment he'd stepped into the Hub early one morning to find Jack frazzled and awake. He'd quickly taken to stopping at a local pub after work, finding some small relief in the normalcy of life there and the barmaid who quickly became his sounding board as the distance between him and Jack grew.

On top of readjusting to life away from Flat Holm and the unique rapport he'd developed with Jack there, Ianto had returned to work only to once again experience the worst of Torchwood: Jack sacrificing a young girl to the fairies in order to save the world, cannibals in the Brecon Beacons, threatening to eat him simply because they liked it. His newfound faith in life, and in Jack, had been severely shaken. Jack had told him to call if he'd ever felt like ending it, but he'd called Mandy instead when it had almost been too much to bear. She'd saved his life after Flat Holm as much as Jack had on the island.

Then he'd watched Jack ruthlessly kill the woman—the alien—Tosh had come to care about. It had been hard to reconcile that Jack with the one who had carefully and compassionately put him back together at Flat Holm, and it had been far too much like seeing Lisa killed all over again. Something within him had snapped; a terrible opportunity presented itself at the worst possible moment, and Ianto had almost done the unspeakable as he'd watched Jack tumble through the Rift in the cellar of the Ferret.

But he'd gone back. He'd realized as soon as he'd walked out, as soon as his mother had called, that she needed him, and that someone needed Jack. Tosh, for one, and Owen, and Gwen. And him, certainly him, though he'd tried to deny it for months. Even more importantly, Cardiff needed Jack. Ianto had known even then that Jack was the only one who could make the hard decisions none of them could make, particularly given Ianto's many failures. Jack didn't deserve whatever fate Ianto had consigned him to; he was meant to save the world, and so Ianto had gone back.

Jack had said several times that Ianto had saved him that night, but Ianto had also damned him, and knew he deserved none of Jack's gratitude. In fact, he often wondered why Jack had bothered with him after yet another betrayal: why he hadn't killed Ianto right then, or Retconned him out of Torchwood for good. That night had shown Ianto how little he deserved to be a part of Torchwood; yet in the end it had also made him more determined than ever to do right by it, and especially by Jack.

And so even when Jack had left them, he'd continued fighting, watching over the others, and over Flat Holm. When Jack had returned and some of the things he'd kept secret for so long, it all made so much sense that Ianto knew he'd made the right choice: to continue with Torchwood, with his unwavering loyalty to Jack. Letting Jack back into his personal life and his bed had been much harder; trust had been difficult to exchange again, complicated by the very real fear of being hurt. Not a day didn't go by where Ianto wondered when the mirage with wink out, and he'd be alone again. He cared too much to move on. His life was Torchwood now, and Jack, and though it would be the end of him one day, he tried to live it honestly and with integrity.

Beside him, Gwen sighed and patted his leg. "You're a remarkable man, Ianto Jones," she said. She kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you for sharing so much of yourself."

"You're welcome," he replied, standing with her. "Maybe make sure it doesn't go to waste?"

"I won't," she said. "I think understand what you're trying to do. For me, and especially for Jack. Thank you."

She hugged him once more, and he untangled himself with a laugh. "Go on, go home to Rhys. Let him take care of you a bit now, too."

"Two gorgeous Welshman pampering me in one day?" she laughed. "I'm the luckiest girl in Cardiff!"

"Did someone say pampering?" asked a voice from nearby. "Because I could really go for some of that."

Jack came up the stairs from the basement, surprising them both. Ianto had assumed Jack was out, standing on one of his rooftops as he gazed out over the city. He was wearing his coat, though why he had been wearing it in the basement wasn't exactly clear.

"That is definitely my cue to leave!" laughed Gwen. She turned to Ianto and saw the look of uncertainty on his face. "If you're sure you'll be all right?" she asked quietly. He forced a smile for her.

"Of course," he said. "I'll be fine."

She patted his arm. "Call if you need anything, okay?"

He shook his head and pulled her into another hug. "I thought I was the one comforting you?" he murmured into her ear, then pushed her away. "I'll be all right, and I'll see you tomorrow."

"Thank you," she whispered, before turning away. She had to walk past Jack and stopped for a moment in front of him, studying him silently before throwing her arms around his neck. Ianto saw her whisper something in his ear. From the surprised look on Jack's face, he half wondered if it was some sort of threat, and if she had learned anything at all. Then Jack laughed softly and turned her toward the door, and with one last wave at them both, she left.

Ianto sank onto the sofa again. Leaning against the back, he closed his eyes to center himself before talking to Jack. It had been difficult sharing so much with Gwen, and he needed to find his equilibrium before facing Jack and the consequences of his actions in revealing Flat Holm.

He felt the sofa sink next to him and opened his eyes to find Jack mirroring his position, coat thrown haphazardly over a chair, blue eyes gazing out at the Hub. "Good talk with Gwen?"

Ianto considered his response. "I thought she needed some context for some of the things that happened today."

Jack turned to look at him. "So you told her about your experience there."

Ianto sighed and looked away. "How much did you hear?"

"Enough." Jack reached out and took his hand, clasping their fingers together on his knee. "It can't have been easy."

"I think she needed to understand why it's important, what it can do for people."

"Because it saved you," Jack said, though it was more of a question. Ianto smiled to himself, still unable to look at Jack.

"You saved me," he whispered.

Jack's other hand came to his chin, turned Ianto's face toward him. "I wanted to save you," he said. "I didn't want to lose you to your demons, or to mine, and certainly not to Torchwood. Too many people died that day in London. I didn't want you to be another."

"Jack—"

"Because you were worth saving, Ianto, more than anyone I've ever met."

Ianto pulled away and glanced around the Hub, his heart beating fast. "I don't know if I ever thanked you."

"You don't have to," said Jack. "Just keep on living."

Ianto laughed nervously. "I try my best, sir."

Jack squeezed his hand, a gentle reprimand on the formality. "Good, because I want you here with me, for as long as I can have you. You may not think so, but you matter to me. You did then, and you do now, more than ever. You are worth everything, Ianto."

He swallowed thickly. "But I'm not," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Because I did it again, I betrayed you. You didn't want her to know, but I told her anyway. I'm not worth it."

Jack was silent for a moment. "Why did you tell her?" he asked.

"Because it would have destroyed you both, and possibly the team." Ianto took a breath. "And because she _needed_ to know. I realize you wanted to protect her from it, from the hopelessness and fear, from everything that is dark and terrible about Torchwood. And I can respect that. Only she wouldn't accept your word to leave it, and I _can't_ respect that. She needed to understand why you do what you do. She only thinks about herself, sometimes, and what she believes is right. She doesn't trust us, or you, and that's not right."

"I heard what you told her," Jack said softly, and now his voice sounded rough. "About me."

"And I'll keep reminding her, every day if I have to," Ianto replied defensively. "I'm tired of her pushing you, Jack. Of doubting and questioning all of us, but especially you. You are our commanding officer, and she needs to understand that you earned it the hard way. That you know what you're doing."

Jack shook his head and leaned his head back. "No, I really don't."

Ianto thought about the many things he could say, that he wanted to say, but there was only one he could voice. "You did at Flat Holm. With me."

Jack turned toward him. "Oh, Ianto, I still don't know what I'm doing with you." He tried to sound light-hearted, but Ianto heard underlying sadness. And he felt it, too, the uncertainty they lived with day to day, so he parried back with equal nonchalance.

"I could always think of something," he said, smiling at Jack, who returned the smile and leaned closer.

"Is that all you think about now?"

"Now?" said Ianto. "Who said I wasn't always like this?"

Jack kissed him, quick and light. "Don't ever change, okay?"

"Wasn't planning on it," Ianto murmured as Jack laid his head on Ianto's shoulder. They sat together for several minutes, not quite snuggling, but silently drawing comfort from one another.

"I hate that place," Jack murmured, and Ianto felt him shudder.

"You hate what it represents," Ianto replied. "The unknown, the unpredictable, the unprotected."

"Maybe," Jack said. "But more than that…it's failure. There's nothing I can do to stop them from being taken, and there's nothing I can do to help them when the Rift is cruel enough to bring them back, damaged and alone."

"But you are helping them!" Ianto insisted. "Those people would have been left to suffer alone in the vaults before you found them. Now they at least have a chance to live out their lives in comfort and some measure of peace. You must see that."

Jack turned his face up to Ianto with a smile. " _We're_ helping them," he said. "Because I couldn't do it without you."

Ianto was silent, thinking about how Flat Holm had helped him recover from such a dark period in his life, and hoping that he in turn had repaid his debt to both the island and to Jack. Sometimes his only consolation at Torchwood was taking care of the lost souls at Flat Holm. If he'd had a bad day, going to Flat Holm reminded him of the good they did, and of the failures he worked ceaselessly to redeem by trying to do right by the island. Jack was always carrying the burden of what they hadn't done and couldn't do; Ianto tried to see the light in the darkness of Flat Holm, the hope for people who otherwise had none. Because he knew the ultimate source of that light was Jack's big heart.

Patting Jack's leg, he eased himself to a sitting position. "Let's go back to mine tonight. You don't need to mope around here."

Jack grinned, but his weariness was obvious. "Who says I'm moping?"

"I know you," Ianto replied. "And I know how much it hurts you to go out there."

"I don't know how you manage it," Jack murmured, shaking his head.

"Sometimes I don't," Ianto replied with a shrug. "But most of the time it gives me hope. It reminds me of what we can do right, not what inevitably goes wrong. We didn't hurt those people, but we save them a little more every day."

"You do it for her," Jack said with a remarkable insight and a sad smile. Ianto nodded.

"In some ways. But I do it for you, too. Because you did it for me, and because I believe in you and what you are doing for Torchwood."

Jack looked away, his eyes bright. He took Ianto's hand again and finally met his eyes. "You're a remarkable man, Ianto Jones."

"I know," Ianto replied with a grin. "Gwen told me the same thing."

"I know," Jack parroted. "I heard her." His tone became more serious. "I'm glad she's finally realized what I've known for a long time."

"And hopefully she's realized the same about you," Ianto said. He did not want to take credit for something he did not start, nor for something he continued to do for his own often selfish reasons. And none of this had been about him, but about Jack, and Gwen, and the reality of Flat Holm. "Come on, let's go. Back to mine for a stiff drink, maybe a long, hot shower, and bed."

"Sounds perfect," Jack replied, leaning in to kiss him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Ianto said. "And thank you. For what you did then, for what you've done since, and for understanding now." He paused. "So if we're done with the sentimental prattling, can we leave now?"

Jack jumped up, pulling Ianto with him so fast he couldn't help but laugh. "Absolutely! I could really use a night off from all this."

"Only to start again in the morning," Ianto returned dryly, but without bitterness. It was their job, their life, given to protect others, and Ianto wouldn't have it any other way.

Jack nodded and squeezed his hand. "Yes, but together."

They shut down the Hub and gathered their coats, and for one night they put aside Gwen Cooper, Flat Holm, and the Rift. The past was behind them, and against all odds the future lay before them, beginning with a night of comfort and compassion. They were whole, and most important, they were together.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End!
> 
> When I started this over a year ago, I had originally planned to write more on the island. It involved Sam and Elise and Ianto, but it never really clicked. I finally realized that once Ianto said, "It was Jack," then anything else that happened would take away from the impact of that statement. Because that was the focus, Ianto and Jack. It was Jack who went to the island every day and slowly but surely brought Ianto back from the brink.
> 
> When Broken came out in July, I was sure that this entire story was pretty much jossed, and that I would never finish and post it. At the same time, Ianto did grow somewhat suicidal after the incident in the Beacons in that story, so it confirmed my thoughts about the character and his mental state, and made me want to explore that more. I personally find things like the audios to be official canon and don't like to contradict them unless I'm setting out to write a "What if?" or alternate universe scenario. So I've tried to work with what we learned in Broken, and yet there were a few things that I struggled with. Namely, the idea that Ianto went home, went to the pub, and went back to work within days of the tragedy with Lisa. I prefer the month long suspension he was given in the Captain's Log on the BBC website at the time the episode aired. It makes no sense to me that he wouldn't be punished in some way, or given leave to recover. So I've set his time at the island over his suspension, with the events of Broken happening right after. He left the island stronger, but being thrown back into the real world of Torchwood was hard, particularly as both he and Jack struggled to find their footing with one another in a new context. Hence he turns to Mandy instead of Jack, who we see in the audio as trying, but ultimately failing to support Ianto as he had on the island in this story.
> 
> I imagine that after growing closer to Jack at Flat Holm, losing some of that once back at the Hub was difficult, and that his past anger combined with new resentment until we see the Ianto of Broken, who stands by to watch Jack suffer and die. Yet he saves him, and something finally draws them together physically. That it was initially comfort is little in doubt, I think. But as Ianto notes to himself, that it developed into more, whatever it is at this point, is indeed remarkable given their past.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this story, even though it ends here. I felt like once so much had been written, it deserved to be finished and shared. And really, we have no canon for Ianto's recovery other than Broken, which still sees him lost and alone and doesn't explain how he was able to come back to work and move on. So I hope that this story presents one plausible scenario. Thank you so much for all the comments, I really appreciate them and hope the story lived up to every one.


End file.
